


Suspension of Disbelief

by blueshifted



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, Blood, Gaslighting, Gen, Manipulation, Self-Harm, Violence, anxiety attack, self-deprecation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-22 08:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15578253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueshifted/pseuds/blueshifted
Summary: Deceit tries to replace Morality… fuels Anxiety… silences Logic. But worst is what he does to Roman.Roman, who remains stubbornly in his room, struggling to find that one good idea (and, just maybe avoiding the others after that argument last week). Who wants nothing to do with Deceit but can’t quite manage to keep him from invading his personal space. Who eventually stops protesting and just tries to ignore him because it’s not worth the effort— and what’s the harm in pretending that someone actually likes what he creates?Because while Deceit is in opposition to the other sides and the things they represent, he needs Creativity. And as Roman discovers, a little self-deception can be far more dangerous than he could possibly imagine.Isn’t it nice to be needed?





	1. Much Ado About Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from tumblr (@ajax-blue) for TS-Storytime's 2018 Big Bang Fic Challenge.

 

* * *

 

The sound of metal scratching against parchment filled the room. It was steady, almost continuous, although every now and again it hesitated.

This time, it paused.

And continued to pause.

Until finally, it was replaced by a loud and frustrated sigh, and much faster, more vigorous scratching.

Roman leaned away from his desk, stretching his stiff back and neck, and raking one hand through his fading purple hair. He let his pen fall from the other hand, not caring if it splattered ink across the paper— it wasn’t like it mattered, since he’d just scribbled out half of what was written on it.

The creative side twisted his head to the left, wincing as the vertebrae popped painfully into place. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been at it this time.

A glance down at his work had Roman grimacing; not long enough, clearly.

In reality, Roman had spent the better part of the last week planted at his desk, trying and failing to come up with a good idea for Thomas’s next creation, stubbornly refusing to come out for anything more than a hastily made cup of coffee. He told himself it was because he needed to keep focused, but the truth was, he was also avoiding the other sides after the argument they’d had a week ago over some of his recent ideas.

His current creative block was not helping him feel any less frustrated.

A long and bedraggled breath fell from Roman’s lips, and he tilted his face to cradle it in both hands, palms pressing against his eyes. There had to be a solution to this.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Roman flung himself upwards in a mess of flailing limbs, knocking his chair clean over and yet somehow managing to draw his blade in the same motion. He whirled, swinging his sword, only for his eyes to fall on a figure perched on the side of his bed.

Deceit had one elbow on his knee, his chin couched in his hand, and wore the most utterly unimpressed stare Roman had ever seen. “… _That_ was graceful.”

“ _Deceit?_ ”

The princely side found that Deceit had— somehow— appeared in his room without him realizing. Immediately, Roman’s neck and face grew flushed; he still felt the shame of having been played so neatly by Deceit when the serpentine side had impersonated Patton. Right now, he was in no mood to be tolerant.

“What are you doing in my room?? Get _out!_ ”

Deceit made a show of examining one gloved hand, then turning and yawning into the other one. Then he blinked, as though just noticing Roman. “Sorry, were you saying something?”

Well, if _that_ was how Deceit was going to play it— Roman stalked forward, sword held out in front of him. Deceit watched him approach, making no attempt to move. _Fine_. “You are _not_ welcome here. I’m giving you one chance,” Roman warned. “Either remove yourself from my room, or I will _drive_ you from it.”

Deceit still made no move to get up, and, temper flaring, Roman punctuated his sentence by prodding at Deceit’s chest with the tip of his sword.

Deceit vanished completely.

Roman leapt back, shocked; when Deceit spoke again, he very nearly tripped over himself.

“Such _conviction_. You know, when you speak like that, I _really believe_ you could accomplish _anything_.”

Roman whirled, searching for the deceitful side, only to find him in the chair Roman had just been sitting in, leaned back on two legs with his feet propped on the desk. When he saw that Roman had noticed him and was once more brandishing his sword at him, a grin spread across his face.

“You know, you look really regal right now. _Very_ intimidating.”

A mix of humiliation and anger burned inside of Roman, and he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. “So be it,” he grated— then charged towards Deceit with his blade held aloft, determined to chase the serpent from his room.

But every time his sword would connect, the image of Deceit blurred and disappeared, only to reappear somewhere else. This went on for a minute or so, with Deceit ‘cheering’ Roman on in a deadpan monotone.

“ _So_ close, Roman. _Wow_ , you _almost_ got me with that one. You’re _so_ _good_ at this.”

Tired, panting, and thoroughly annoyed, Roman let his sword dip towards the floor, and glared up at the dishonest side. “Why are you even pestering me in the first place?”

Deceit made a show of shrugging, now perched atop Roman’s wardrobe. “I don’t know, I just have _so_ many interesting things going on right now, I could hardly pick one.”

Roman worked that over for a moment, before asking incredulously, “You’re _bored?_ ” Then irritated again: “Would you go haunt some place else??”

“Sure thing.” Deceit smiled widely, making no move to leave. “You’re the boss.”

Roman gave a frustrated growl. “I don’t suppose you’d like to share why you insist on intruding on _my_ space in particular?” The only response Roman received for his efforts was overly dramatic and exaggerated shrug, and the princely side let out a sound of disgust. “I suppose I should know better than to expect a straight answer out of you,” he muttered.

Deceit grinned and said, “I’m nothing _but_ straight with you, Roman,” which just made Roman groan and roll his eyes. Still irritated, but unable to eject the dishonest side, Roman finally resigned himself to going back to what he was doing and just ignoring Deceit.

…Which worked for about a minute, before Deceit started offering colorful and ‘complimentary’ commentary.

“I absolutely _love_ that idea, Roman.”

Roman jerked up in his chair, caught off guard, and almost gave Deceit an incredulous look before he remembered that he was ignoring the other side. He pointedly refocused on his work in front of him, setting pen to paper.

“How did you come up with this? It’s _so_ _original_.”  
“I can’t _believe_ how _clever_ your dialogue is.”  
“The humor in this is just _inspired_.”

Roman’s knuckles were white around his pen. He reread the line he’d just written, trying to reclaim his train of thought; Deceit leaned in over his right shoulder.

“This may just be some of your _best work yet_.”

“You know, I _do_ realize that you are _insulting me_ ,” Roman snapped, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck at the thought that, he _hadn’t_ before.

“Insulting you? I’m praising you,” the other side insisted. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

That got Roman’s hackles up. “Every word you utter is a lie!”

“Mm,” Deceit hummed, rolling his eyes. “And you certainly _don’t_ want to hear it. I suppose you could just go show the others,” he said, gesturing with one hand as though weighing the merits of the idea. “They’d be _so_ delighted. Especially the part with the forklift; Logan’ll be just _tickled_.” Deceit’s words struck a nerve; Logan and Roman’s ongoing feud over the practicality of some of Roman’s ideas remained a sore spot.

Roman straightened his back, crossing his arms in front of him, and doing his best to not let on that Deceit’s comment had hit its mark. “If I _were_ to call on the other sides for anything, it would be for their assistance in removing _you_.”

Deceit readily agreed. “You should do that. They’d _love_ to hear about how you’re hanging around with me.”

Roman’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Not by choice!”

“They’ll be incredibly impressed that you asked for help, too,” Deceit went on. “Even though you’re the heroic one. They won’t think less of you, I’m sure.” He made a show of examining his nails, despite the fact that he was still wearing gloves, then glanced upwards. “They’ve probably even forgiven you by now for that little spat.”

Roman visibly stiffened. “Our disagreement is a temporary thing.”

“Of course it is.”

“We’ve overcome all other obstacles we’ve faced in the past, we shall move past this as well.”

“You’d know better than me.” Deceit wore a flat, knowing smile that— despite Roman insisting mentally, of _course_ he knew better, why wouldn’t he, they were _his_ friends— still made Roman’s skin crawl.

The creative side tried once again to return to his work and pretend like Deceit’s presence wasn’t leaving him even more distracted than before. If nothing else, he tried to not give the snake-like side the satisfaction of getting any further reaction from him.

Instead, he attempted to focus on coming up with a good idea. One that would give Logan no reason to protest, that Virgil wouldn’t find every way in which it could go wrong, that Patton wouldn’t chide for being mean spirited. Yet again, Deceit managed to completely disrupt his efforts— this time by actually sitting on top of Roman’s desk as he tried to write.

It took Roman a moment to process what had just happened before he made an offended noise and protested, “Butt, _off_ the creative space!”

Deceit ignored that and just asked Roman a question instead: “Do you want to know a secret?”

“ _No_.”

“I don’t _have_ to lie,” Deceit offered. “It’s just my nature. …And I like it,” he admitted a moment later. “But, I _do_ recognize when _others_ are lying. And may I just say,” he went on, in his dry, deadpan manner, “how _enthralling_ it is to watch you all. You four are just one big, happy, functional family. You’re so _honest_ and _open_ with each other, _all the time_.” The dishonest side picked at a speck of dust on his capelet, flicking it off. “And normally, I’d be just _heartbroken_ , watching you lie to yourself— but at this point?” Deceit affected a wince. “It’s kind of just pathetic.”

It was all Roman could do to not react; to just stare at the page in front of him, clutching his pen, head down and shoulders held rigid.

This time, the silence stretched on. Eventually, Roman forced himself to take a few deep breaths, until he could make himself relax, and pretend like everything was fine.

When he finally looked up, Roman found that he was once again alone.

 


	2. As You Like It

 

* * *

  

Roman reflected wryly that it was, perhaps, foolish to hope Deceit’s intrusion would be a one-time thing.

Sadly, it was not to be. Over the following days, Deceit continued to turn up, without warning, and apparently without any purpose other than to lurk over Roman’s shoulder and make sarcastic remarks.

Eventually, Roman started protesting Deceit’s presence less and less. He still insisted to himself that he didn’t trust Deceit at all! But he couldn’t ever manage to actually dispatch of the snake or expel him from his room, and at this point, it was getting to be more exhausting to try than to just deal with his continued presence.

Over time, he also protested Deceit’s backhanded compliments less as well. Roman told himself he was ignoring them, but there was also a small part of him that wished he could believe they were real.

At one point, Roman tried once more to half-heartedly question Deceit’s presence.

“I have a question for you,” Roman posed, eyeing Deceit who was draped across the foot of his bed on his back, legs hooked up over the footboard. “… _Why_ do you insist on hanging around me like some overdressed leech??”

“I genuinely like you,” Deceit offered.

That was met with a flat glare.

Deceit rolled his eyes, but didn’t push it. “Fine. But I _do_ prefer you over the others. I know, it’s _so_ surprising,” he mocked. Roman still wore his distrusting expression; Deceit affected hurt. “We’ve done good work together!”

“We have never worked together! Unless you count your little workshop of horrors,” Roman sniped.

“No? Certainly not all of the _acting_ Thomas has done,” Deceit pointed out, rolling over and sitting up. “All of the fantasies you’ve concocted for him?” From the tone of his voice Deceit actually seemed to regard those somewhat fondly.

Roman wasn’t quite able to answer that at first. He could hear his own words echoing in his head: _never lie at_ all _??_ …And wasn’t it true? There was an inherent element of deception in theater.

Luckily, his own words were not the only ones that came to mind. “There’s an unspoken agreement between an audience and the show runners, that what they’re seeing isn’t actually happening,” Roman said, recalling Logan’s argument. He looked up to meet Deceit’s gaze. “They _know_ it’s not real.”

“Oh yes, reality is _such_ a wonderful place to be,” Deceit deadpanned. “ _You_ know, Roman— good acting, a good _fantasy_ , is supposed to take you away from all that. They _want_ to be deceived.”

“Suspension of disbelief— while, yes, a vital part of enjoying any fantasy, including the theater—” Roman stopped and shook his head, refocusing— “is _not_ the same thing as deception.”

“ _Falsehood_ ,” Deceit returned easily, making Roman startle.

Deceit pretended to adjust non-existent eye glasses. The obvious imitation was not lost on Roman, who drew himself up, offended once again. Deceit just smiled, too wide, and Roman grimaced, turning away.

“Yes, well, _thank you_ for your input, tall, dark and _creepy_ ,” he muttered.

From behind him, Deceit asked, “Would it sound better this way?” But the cadence and tone weren’t Deceit’s— they were Logan’s.

Roman whirled, shocked to see the logical side looking at him with a half-smirk. Shock quickly melted into anger: “…How… _dare_.” His hand went to the hilt of his sword for the first time in a long time.

Deceit glanced at the weapon, then back at Roman, unimpressed. “Oh yes, you’re going to cut down a likeness of one of your _friends_.” Deceit rolled his eyes behind Logan’s glasses. “Freud would have a field day. Besides,” he calmly persisted, steepling his fingers. “Don’t you want Logan’s approval? Instead of just always turning down and arguing against your ideas?”

“You are _not_ Logan.”

“ _That_ was certainly a direct answer to my question.” Deceit’s calm smile returned. “Well. If my input isn’t welcome, perhaps you should actually share your idea with the others, then?”

“Perhaps I _will!_ ” Fed up, Roman snatched the piece of parchment from his desk.

And, for the first time in two weeks, Roman marched out of his room, down the hallway, towards the living room, and…

And, the closer he got to the sides’ common area, the less confident Roman felt. His march became more of a stroll, then more of a _creep_ , finally hesitating just before he rounded the corner.

Was he actually ready to share what he had with the others? Or had he just let Deceit goad him into this? Roman’s gut twisted; what if Deceit’s whole purpose was to get him to make a fool of himself in front of the other sides by showing them something terrible? His hand started to clench around the piece of parchment, crumpling it.

“Roman!”

The creative side nearly leapt out of his skin at the unexpected voice from behind him; he spun, finding Patton looking sheepish.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you! I was just excited to see you out of your room,” Patton explained. The little bit of guilt that started to gnaw at Roman’s insides got quickly squashed, as Patton went on to ask, “You got something there, kiddo?”

Realizing that Patton was pointing at the paper in his hand, Roman hastily stuffed it in his pocket. “…No.”

Without another word, Roman brushed past Patton, eyes firmly fixed on the floor, and swiftly returned to his room.

Roman didn’t even get thirty seconds of solitude before Deceit’s voice— Logan’s voice— began mocking him.

“You didn’t even _attempt_ to show them, did you?”

Roman refused to look up, but steadily grew more and more tense.

“Would you like me to tell you what Logan _would_ have said?” Deceit proceeded to gleefully tear into Roman’s work. “This is completely unrealistic. _Utterly_ ridiculous. Where exactly do you think Thomas is going to be able to film a stunt like this?”

Logan’s— _Deceit’s_ — voice dripped with disdain.

“He certainly won’t be able to afford it. And the time it would take to edit— _please_.”

Roman ducked his head, shoulders taut, fingernails digging into his palms.

“That’s not even starting on your weak dialogue— this pun, you’ve used it twice before. Honestly, the whole concept is just—”

The tension in Roman finally snapped. “If I’d wanted to hear this, I’d have just shown it to _Logan!_ ”

The room fell silent. Deceit pulled back, regarding the other side.

Roman turned away, flushing with heat and shame. He forced himself to sit back at his desk, pointedly avoiding looking at Deceit, even as he heard the quiet click of footsteps coming up behind his chair.

Then Deceit did something entirely unexpected. “…Well,” he offered, his voice now devoid of irony. “It does have some potential.”

Roman gaped.

“The blocking is good,” Deceit went on, continuing his assessment. “The physical humor you’ve come up with is actually funny. And this wordplay right here is very clever— especially with how you bring the joke back later in the video.” Deceit turned and eyed Roman, still wearing Logan’s appearance. Then he quirked one eyebrow. “Is that more in line with what you wanted to hear?”

Roman continued to stare, mouth hanging open, too taken aback to respond.

 

* * *

 

One morning a couple days later found Roman standing in awkward silence in the kitchen, waiting on a pot of coffee.

What made it awkward was the fact that he wasn’t the only one there.

Roman would really have preferred nothing more than to go back to his room, but he’d also been feeling guilty over his earlier interaction with Patton, and how he’d just walked off. Since then, he’d been making a concerted effort to try to be at least a _little_ less obvious about avoiding everyone.

So, while the other sides milled about, preparing their breakfasts and making small talk, he stood quietly off to one side, his stare fixed on the coffee pot.

Roman still hadn’t told them about Deceit lurking around his room and taunting him; his creative block was humiliating enough on its own. But even Deceit’s visits had started to take on a new, disquieting trend— Deceit was now periodically taking on the forms of the other sides to offer his comments.

It irritated Roman, a fact that he never failed to voice, but what burned him more was that… there was a part of him that clung to each scrap of false praise. That indulged in imagining that it really was Logan or Patton or Virgil praising him, extolling his work. Especially considering how few positive interactions he’d had with the others lately.

It didn’t help that Roman still didn’t have anything to show for all the time he’d spent sequestered away in his room, which hadn’t escaped the others’ notice.

It wasn’t unusual for the anxious and creative sides to trade barbs, but all of Virgil’s seemed to be more pointed than usual lately. Logan had shown considerable restraint (for him), but was starting to get less subtle in his attempts to press Roman over his seeming lack of inspiration. Thomas had been putting off working on his next project because he couldn’t come up with anything, which left both his Anxiety and his Logic irritable.

Patton was doing an admirable job of keeping things civil between everyone. More than that, he could see that something was bothering Roman, and tried to reach out to him.

“Roman… We haven’t seen a whole lot of you lately,” he started, then paused. “You think you might be up to joining us for breakfast?”

Patton gave Roman an entreating look, and Roman had to look away; Patton was hard to resist. But Roman knew, it wasn’t just about breakfast. Patton wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask what was wrong, wanted to help.

Roman wasn’t quite willing to open up, though. Things were still uncomfortable and a little tense between the four of them— the argument of two weeks ago still wasn’t forgotten. “No thanks, Patton, I’m not hungry,” Roman answered quietly, and tried not to squirm when Patton’s face fell. Instead, he turned to the coffee pot, ready to pour himself a cup and leave.

“Of course not.”

Logan’s muttered comment made Roman halt; when Virgil snorted, his hand clenched around the handle until his knuckles were white. He took a moment to steel himself before he poured out his coffee, careful not to spill any, and replaced the pot.

Then Roman turned, a tight smile plastered onto his face. “Besides,” he said loudly, as though continuing on without interruption, and startling the other three sides. “I get the feeling that I’m not particularly _wanted_ at this precise moment.” He glared pointedly at Virgil and Logan.

“What? No!” Patton protested.

Logan’s brow was also creased. “Excuse me?”

Roman scoffed. “Do you really think of me as that dumb, Logan? I’m not _deaf_.” _That_ , they all reacted to— Logan pulled back, seemingly startled, but his expression quickly became stony.

“Whoa, _guys_ ,” Patton tried to intercede, before things got out of hand; the fragile peace that they’d been maintaining was threatening to crack.

“What is your _damage_ , Princey?” Virgil demanded, eyes narrowed.

Patton shot him a frustrated look. “ _Virgil_ — _not_ helping.”

Logan crossed his arms, continuing to regard Roman. “I’m quite aware that your hearing functions just fine,” he said. “In fact, it would seem that you have superhuman hearing, since you apparently possess the ability to hear things which _I haven’t said_.”

“ _I think_ ,” Patton broke in, talking over all of them and physically putting himself between Roman and the others, “we all need to take a few minutes to cool ourselves on down.” On the surface, he seemed cheerfully calm, but his voice had a firm edge to it as he looked back and forth. “What do you say, kiddos?”

Logan wore a tight lipped expression, his eyes never leaving Roman. “Take all the time you need,” he said, voice clipped.

Roman’s fingers curled against his coffee cup again, his shoulders hunched defensively, while Patton shot Logan a warning look. Roman bit down on his tongue; he was _not_ rising to Logan’s bait. With a forced effort, Roman made himself look down and take a slow slip of his coffee. It was bitter, and too hot to drink just yet, but he made himself swallow it anyways.

Virgil had no such restraint. “It’s not like _that’s_ anything new,” he sniped, quirking one eyebrow.

Roman choked, his throat burning, while Patton whirled on the anxious side, looking aghast. “ _Virgil!_ ”

Anger flared in in Roman’s chest; he slammed his mug to the counter, sloshing coffee over the sides. “Okay, listen up, you _All-American Reject_ —”

“Would you guys please _stop?!_ ” Patton suddenly shouted, startling the rest of them into silence. “Can you two stop antagonizing him?” he demanded of Logan and Virgil, who both looked taken aback at his outburst. Then he spun to face the princely side. “And Roman, that was _uncalled for_ —”

“I don’t need your lecture!” Roman snapped without thinking.

Patton reeled as though he’d been hit.

For a full four seconds, no one said anything.

Then, Virgil’s lip curled. “What the _heck_ is _wrong with you?_ ” he spat, ready to meet Roman’s anger head on. Likewise, Logan’s expression had become cold and steely.

Patton hastily recomposed himself, and raised his hands placatingly, still trying to de-escalate the situation. “Guys, _please_ , this isn’t worth fighting over—”

“Like hell it isn’t!”— “ _Language_ ,” Patton chided half-heartedly— “He doesn’t get to treat you like that,” Virgil growled, ignoring the moral side’s admonishment.

“I find I must agree with Virgil,” Logan said, arms crossed and voice icy.

It wasn’t that Roman didn’t feel the guilt welling up in him; it wasn’t that he didn’t regret snapping at Patton the second the words had left his mouth. It was hard to focus on those emotions, though, when they were competing with indignant outrage. And with both Logan and Virgil lined up against him, when _they_ were the ones who had provoked him in the first place— Roman had had enough.

Patton wore a pleading look, and he opened his mouth to entreat them all again; Roman cut him off. “Don’t bother, Patton,” he said, voice tight. “There’s an extremely simple way to resolve this.”

Then Roman spun on a heel, and stormed out, not stopping until he had reached his room and slammed the door behind him.

The creative side all but threw himself into his chair, snatching his pen from its inkwell. He practically attacked the paper, furiously trying to force a new idea to come forth.

Between writing and editing and rewriting, Roman ended up working straight through the night, trying to burn off stress. Somewhere in the early morning he became aware that he was, unsurprisingly, not alone. But for once it was easy to tune Deceit’s presence out and just be absorbed in what he was doing; also for once, Deceit remained almost entirely silent.

Finally, Roman forced himself to stop— straightening his back, wincing as it cracked and popped— and allowed that he might actually have something worthwhile.

At this point though, Roman didn’t know whether or not to trust himself. And so, still craving feedback and validation, he hesitantly asked, “…Deceit. What… do you think? Of this?”

Deceit arched one skeptical eyebrow at him. Roman continued to look uncertainly in his direction, not quite making eye contact. Deceit sauntered over and eyed Roman, before glancing at the piece of paper and offering: “Absolutely dreadful.”

Roman let out a sigh of disgust, rolling his eyes, but they came back to linger on what he’d created.

After a beat, though, Deceit leaned back over Roman’s shoulder, then pointed to a line. “…This would make more sense if it came from the other character.” This was followed by more seemingly straightforward comments on blocking and dialogue, tightening up this section here and moving that part there.

This time Roman masked his surprise, and after a few moments’ hesitation, picked up his pen again, considering Deceit’s words.

 


	3. Two Noble Kinsmen

 

* * *

  

By the time Roman was finally ready to declare himself done, it was morning, he was exhausted, and all of the anger he had felt yesterday had burned away, leaving guilt in its place.

He wasn’t eager to face the others again so soon. But, feeling as though they were never going to be able to move past all of this until he could give them something to work with, Roman decided to grit his teeth and bear it.

And so, Roman made his way back out to the common area where the others were having a quiet breakfast. They immediately took notice of him, but also exchanged glances with each other. Roman avoided eye contact, as well as speaking with any of them

Patton still tried to greet him. “Hey, Roman! How’re you doing this morning?” The moral side tilted his head, eyebrows going up. “…Feeling a little better today?”

Roman simply placed the parchment bearing his work on the table. He then turned and walked to the hall— and the second he was out of sight around the corner, he sank out, retreating to his room again.

At least it was done. Nothing to do now but wait— he’d have to deal with the other sides later, but, that was later. In the meantime, Roman was finally going to get some rest.

Roman reappeared in his room, and was only mildly surprised to find that Deceit wasn’t there. Then again, the other side seemed to be irritatingly good at knowing precisely when Roman was trying to work on something, because he only ever seemed to show up then. Roman wasn’t about to complain, though, as he pulled off his sash and coat, and collapsed into his bed.

 

* * *

 

A knock at his door woke Roman some time later. He was bleary and confused for a few seconds; the only visitor he’d had in recent memory was Deceit, and he just showed up.

The knock repeated. Roman drug himself up from his bed and over to the door, hauling it open to find Logan standing there.

Roman blinked several times, still trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. “Logan?” he asked, almost incredulous.

“…Yes.” The logical side shifted in place.

“What are you doing here?”

Logan held up a familiar piece of paper. “This.”

Roman eyed the parchment bearing his idea— and the red handwriting on it that was entirely new— then Logan, who still watched him uncertainly. “You couldn’t wait until I had woken up to come offer your critique?” Roman asked, peevish.

Logan blinked, then adjusted his glasses. “Ah, no, that wasn’t… I apologize,” he offered awkwardly. “I didn’t realize you had gone back to sleep. And,” Logan went on, “while it could use a little polishing, yes… I actually wanted to tell you, I thinks it’s good.” He proffered the paper to Roman. “You did good work.”

Roman’s eyes flicked down to the paper in Logan’s hand again, and the red ink written on it— all over it.

A ‘little polishing’ _._

Roman’s gaze went back up to Logan. The logical side shifted uncomfortably again. “Thank you for your approval,” Roman offered flatly, before closing the door and turning to flop back on his bed.

Logan was left standing there, recoiling slightly to avoid getting the door shut into his face.

He wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret Roman’s behavior. …He didn’t slam the door on him. And he actually spoke to Logan, so the logical side supposed it was an improvement from the previous day.

It wasn’t entirely unreasonable that part of Roman’s current demeanor might have been caused by lack of sleep, Logan reflected, since it seemed he had apparently stayed up all night to finish his work. But Logan couldn’t honestly accept that Roman’s less than enthusiastic reception of him was entirely motivated by sleep deprivation.

Logan knew that they’d been at odds for a while now, with the previous day’s blow up seeming to be the culmination of that… But that was a large part of why Logan had chosen to visit Roman in his room. He was uncomfortably aware that his criticism of Roman’s work ethic had not been entirely fair or called for, and clearly the creative side had been under increasing stress. And while he’d only read it over once so far, he did truly think Roman’s idea was a good one— though he had no idea where they were going to get a forklift.

Knowing how much Roman thrived on positive feedback, and how isolated he’d kept himself the past few weeks… and acutely aware that he was at least partly to blame for that… it had seemed like the ideal time to reach out and try to make amends, even if it wasn’t something Logan had much experience at.

But Logan was forced to admit, staring at Roman’s closed door, perhaps… Roman simply wasn’t ready. And it was frustrating, to feel like there was nothing he could do or a way for him to better understand.

Sighing quietly, Logan turned away. He supposed it would be worth discussing with Patton. Maybe he wasn’t the best at understanding or dealing with emotions, but Roman’s behavior couldn’t be healthy, and leaving him to it sounded even worse. In the meantime— he held up the piece of paper.

If nothing else, Logan could use this time to go over Roman’s idea again and actually sit down and proofread it. Helping Thomas get started on his next project could only help to ease the tension they were all experiencing right now.

 

* * *

 

Roman tried to return to sleep, but was too listless to really rest. He eventually gave up and instead tried to figure out what to do with his day.

Still laying in bed, he stared at his desk, having absolutely no desire to return to it. And why should he? He’d been slaving away trying to come up with some workable idea for who knew how long now.

More unexpected knocking at his door made Roman glare and let out an inarticulate sound. Another knock had him growling, “Go _away_ , Logan.”

“It’s Patton,” was the muffled reply. “Can I come in?”

“…It’s unlocked,” Roman finally grumbled, still not getting up.

Patton ducked his head in. “Hey, kiddo.” He let himself in, carrying a tray with what appeared to be lunch on it. “I know you didn’t eat breakfast, and you’ve been skipping a lot of meals lately.”

“We don’t need to eat, Patton,” Roman reminded him wearily.

Patton set the tray down at Roman’s abandoned desk, then came to sit on the side of his bed. The princely side reluctantly pushed himself up into a sitting position, not yet speaking. He knew he owed Patton an apology, but like his writing, the words just wouldn’t come.

But, Roman seriously doubted that was why Patton had visited. The question he was expecting (and dreading) was, ‘Are you okay?’, but surprisingly, it never came.

“What’s your plan for the day?” Patton asked instead, watching Roman closely.

Roman looked over at his desk and gave a low groan. Patton’s forehead wrinkled and he cocked his head. The fatherly side’s look of concern made Roman sigh, and after a moment, he relented. “I am… _unenthused_ … with the idea of doing any more creative work today.”

“…Then don’t.”

“…What?”

Patton shrugged. “Seems like you’ve been working yourself to death for a while now. I think you’ve earned a day off. When’s the last time you’ve scaled a castle, or fought a dragon-witch, or rescued a handsome prince?”

Roman snorted. “One generally rescues _princesses_ ,” he returned. Patton gave him a dubious look. “…Yeah, okay, it’s been princes.” Patton’s mouth pulled to one side in a lopsided smile, and despite himself, Roman couldn’t help but return it.

After some deliberation, Roman had to admit, Patton’s suggestion sounded… _nice_. _Very_ nice. Just spending the day in one of the fantasy scenarios he’d created in Thomas’s imagination, not having to worry about coming up with something original, or deadlines…

Roman realized that he was smiling even wider, and that cinched it for him. “You know what, padre? That’s an excellent suggestion, and I’m going to take it. Thank you,” he added, inclining his head.

He was rewarded with a fond smile. “Of course. Hey— do you want any company?” Patton asked. “Or, would you rather take the day for yourself?”

Roman hesitated; he knew full well that Patton was trying to reach out to him, and rebuild what had been broken between himself and the other sides, but… As selfish as it was, he really just wanted a day to enjoy himself, without any awkwardness or judgment or unpleasant confrontations.

Patton’s expression became an understanding smile at Roman’s hesitation. He just patted the creative side’s leg, bidding him, “Have a good time. And if you need us for anything, you know where to find us.”

“I do,” Roman assured him. Then, as Patton pushed himself up and made to leave, he started, “Wait, Patton—” The other side paused at his door, turning back to face Roman. Roman chewed on his lip for a moment, then sighed. “…I’m sorry.”

Patton’s expression melted into the warmest smile Roman could recall ever seeing on the moral side’s face, and the corners of his eyes crinkled.

Then he winked. “Nice to meet you, sorry! I’m Dad!”

Roman snorted, ducking and shaking his head, and Patton let himself out, chuckling.

 

* * *

 

Roman’s adventure into the imagination ended up stretching the entire day, and he found himself far more relaxed at the end of it; he was bone tired, but in a good way. He even found that he was feeling… more himself, his spirits somewhat lifted, and was actually wearing a smile as he announced his return to the mindscape.

“Dear friends and fellow citizens of Thomas’s mind— I return to you, victorious!”

“You were gone?”

Roman froze, his good mood punctured.

Virgil sat on the couch, headphones on, eyes glued to his phone. He didn’t bother to look up at Roman, who tried to ignore the sting and instead walked to the kitchen. As he left the room, Virgil’s quiet voice followed him: “Should have known— things were actually peaceful around here for once.”

Roman stood stiffly, refusing to react, but his whole frame was tense.

When he finally turned to leave, he could see Virgil, still sitting there, staring at his phone and acting like nothing happened.

Roman sank out silently, returning to his room to fall into a numb sleep.

 


	4. A Midsummer Nightmare

 

* * *

 

When Roman awakened this time, there was no one knocking at his door.

He laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. In his head, he tried to muddle his way through his ongoing disagreement with the others, and _why_ did he keep managing to mess things up every time it looked like they were getting better?

Roman eventually managed to rouse himself from his dejection enough to decide, he needed to make a better effort. Patton had certainly been trying to reach out to him this whole time. There was no reason he shouldn’t at least try.

And so, in what was becoming a familiar scene, Roman joined the others as they were finishing their breakfast. They all paused, watching him carefully.

Roman braced himself with a deep breath. “My friends, I… wanted to extend an invitation to all of you. Would you join me in my adventures in the imagination today?”

Patton was delighted, immediately accepting. “Oh, absolutely Roman! I’d love to!”

Logan and Virgil were clearly less certain, exchanging a look and neither saying anything at first.

Roman tried not to let that sting. “I know it’s… been a while, since we’ve done anything together,” he admitted. “I thought this might help us get back on the right foot.”

Logan put a hand to his chin. “Indulging in fantasy scenarios is not something I’m usually eager to partake in… But, I agree,” he offered, gesturing with the same hand. “It would be good to have some… ‘bonding time’.”

Patton clapped his hands and looked expectantly to Virgil, as did Logan and Roman.

“Well, Grand Marshal of the Black Parade,” Roman hazarded. “…What say you?”

Virgil pulled a face and made a prolonged noise of displeasure; Roman grit his teeth. Patton was unfazed, cheerfully pointing out, “I’m not hearing a no!”

“ _Fine_ ,” Virgil finally relented, rolling his eyes.

 

* * *

 

And so, the sides journeyed into Roman’s fantasy together; at first, all seemed normal. Patton was having a grand time, Logan was at least making an effort to enjoy himself, and Virgil… Virgil was going along with it, if unenthusiastically.

The adventure played out simply enough, with the sides as heroes questing to save a village from a nearby band of ruffians. It was somewhat straightforward, but plot twists and dramatic tension weren’t nearly so important as rebuilding a sense of camaraderie.

Their current path led them through a forest that had certainly never existed any place in reality. It was too pristine, too beautiful, too easy to traverse and was entirely devoid of spiders and mosquitos. Still, Roman couldn’t help but be cautiously pleased, especially as Patton delightedly pointed out each and every animal that crossed their path, or when he marveled at how pretty the sunlight shining through the leaves was.

Logan wore an exasperated but amused expression, and was notably refraining from pointing out the lack of realism. Part of Roman wanted to say something, maybe even thank the logical side— at least to let Logan know that Roman did notice the effort he was making. He couldn’t quite figure out how to word that without embarrassing himself completely, though.

Virgil was, perhaps not unsurprisingly, thumbing at something on his phone, his other hand jammed in the pocket of his hoodie. Roman let out a breath and glanced away, trying not to be frustrated.

Virgil was at least there with them. That counted for something.

For his own part, Roman tried to be a little less boisterous than he might have normally been— no breaking into song, no rallying speeches about how they would best their foes. Just… having the company of his fellow sides, and letting them enjoy themselves on their own terms.

“Roman?”

The princely side started, then glanced at Logan; from the tone of his voice, it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to catch his attention. Roman offered a sheepish smile. “My apologies, I was lost in thought.”

“So long as we’re not lost in Thomas’s imagination.” Logan raised one eyebrow, but also wore the hint of a smile. “I presume you know where we’re going? You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet since we left the village.”

Roman gave a short chuckle and glanced away. “Ahh… Well, I just wanted to let everyone take it all in, I suppose.” When he looked back to Logan, Roman could see the other side wasn’t quite buying it, but he let it slide nonetheless.

Patton took that opportunity to pop up between them, putting an arm around either of their shoulders. “Well, I know _I’m_ having a good time, Roman! In fact,” he went on, grinning, “I’d say this whole afternoon has been a real _tree-t!_ ”

Roman pressed a hand to his mouth, trying not to smile at the expression on Logan’s face.

“Yes. It’s been a _pleasure_ ,” Logan said, voice flat. “ _Thus far_.”

“Sorry Logan. That was really _a-corny_ pun, wasn’t it?”

This time, Roman had to stifle a snort, and he was pretty sure he heard Virgil chuckling behind them; Patton beamed at him. Logan pressed his lips into a thin line, clearly trying very hard to bite down on whatever it was he wanted to say. “Our destination?” he reminded Roman instead, speaking a little louder than was strictly necessary. “There are some criminals we’re supposed to apprehend, are there not?”

“A group of bandits,” Roman answered, deciding to take pity on Logan. “They make their lair in a cave in this forest. We’ll need to be careful, however, as the whole area surrounding it is littered with traps. Not to worry, though,” he added after a moment, with a little more of his usual bravado. “With the four of us, we shall conquer any obstacle in our path!”

“Right!” Patton agreed, dropping his arm to nudge Logan’s shoulder with his own. “So long as we _stick_ together! I know we can get to the _root_ of this problem, and achieve a _vic-tree_. Nothing’s going to _stump_ us!”

Roman doubled over in a fit of very fake coughing, while Virgil quietly lost it; Logan stopped dead in the middle of the pathway, his whole body rigid, refusing to move any further.

Patton paused and turned around, barely containing his mischievous grin. “Uh oh… I’m going to go out on a _limb_ here and guess, I might have pushed the puns to the _ex-tree-m?_ ”

“Easy there, Pat, his eye’s starting to twitch,” Virgil said, finally choosing to join the conversation. Patton turned and regarded Logan, who did indeed look like he was about to blow a gasket.

“… _Wood_ you like me to stop?”

“ _I’m going on ahead,_ ” Logan declared loudly, and stalked away from the other three.

“Don’t wander off!” Virgil called after him.

“Well, I guess he can’t _cedar_ forest for the trees, huh?” Patton murmured, and Roman finally burst into guffaws, unable to contain himself any longer. Up ahead, Logan started walking faster.

 _Oh_ , it felt _good_ , to laugh like that. To share jokes with the others. Roman hadn’t even realized how much he’d missed it; perhaps Patton _had_ , though, judging by the warm look the moral side was giving him. Just as quickly, though, something else caught Patton’s attention off in the trees— “Ooh! Was that a robin?”— and he veered off in another direction.

Virgil threw his hands up in exasperation. “What did I _just_ say?”

Roman’s laughter died down to a chuckle, and he shook his head. When he looked back up, though, he noticed that Logan _was_ getting quite a ways ahead of them. While his good mood couldn’t be dampened by guilt, he still jogged to catch up. “Logan, wait!”

It took a few minutes of coaxing, but Roman soon managed to catch Logan’s interest again with discussion of some of the traps they might have to face. Patton continued to wander back and forth across the trail, searching for wildlife and wearing a wide smile; even Virgil seemed relaxed, enjoying the peace.

They continued on this way for at least another quarter of an hour, everyone’s spirits considerably lightened. In fact, engaged in a lively debate with Logan over the optimal construction of pitfalls, Roman could have completely forgotten that there had been any awkwardness or tension to begin with.

Right up until the moment when Virgil suddenly asked, voice full of alarm, “Where’s Patton?”

Logan and Roman both ground to a halt, spinning to see Virgil— and just Virgil. Roman's heart started to pound faster.

“Now, there’s no call for panic,” Logan tempered. “The simplest explanation is that Patton most likely strayed from the path while looking for woodland creatures.” He gestured to the forest around them. “He probably hasn’t gone that far.”

“We should split up to look for him,” Roman immediately suggested.

Virgil gave him an incredulous look. “We’ve already lost one of us, and you want to split up?”

Roman turned towards Virgil, trying not to let frustration take hold again. “We need to find him, and it’s the fastest way.”

Logan interceded before it could devolve into bickering. “Roman is right; speed is of the essence. So long as we stay within auditory range of one another, we should be able to keep track of each other’s positions.”

The dark expression on Virgil’s face made it clear what he thought of that idea, but he didn’t argue any further.

They wasted no more time in starting their search; the three of them started back the way they came, with Virgil sticking to the path and Roman and Logan going off to either side of it, calling out for their missing friend.

“ _Patton!_ ”

Roman paused, listening for any response. All he could hear, however, was Virgil also yelling Patton’s name, and a little fainter, Logan doing the same.

He sighed and pressed on, leaves crunching under his boots. He wasn’t too anxious just yet; this sort of plot twist wasn’t uncommon in the imagination. Still, it was one thing when it happened to _him_ — Roman ventured into the imagination all the time, he was familiar with its quirks. _And_ , he was armed. Thomas’s imagination wasn’t a particularly dark place, but it could still be dangerous, and Patton was a little too trusting.

A hint of movement ahead made Roman freeze again, eyes straining to pick out whatever it was he had noticed. “…Patton?”

No voice called back, but Roman did hear a strange creaking noise that took a moment for him to place…

With a start, his eyes went wide— the creaking gave way to a whistling sound, and Roman flung himself to the forest floor. The crack of wood splintering sounded overhead, and pieces of bark showered down onto Roman.

He didn’t need to see the shattered shaft of the arrow to realize that one had just glanced off of the tree above him.

Leaves and twigs dug into Roman’s palms as he shoved himself back up, scrambling to get his feet under him. “ _Bandits!_ ” Roman bellowed, trying to warn his fellow sides. “ _Virgil, Logan!_ ”

He could hear more people in the forest around him now, chasing after him, and he raced to rejoin his companions. Then, Roman heard a shout that made his blood turn to ice: “ _We’ve got one here!_ ”

Roman immediately turned that way, drawing his sword mid-stride. He burst back onto the path to find that two of the thugs had Virgil backed up against a tree trunk, his eyes wide with fear.

He gave them no time to react; Roman charged in, and even as the first bandit turned to look Roman smashed the hilt of his sword into their face.

The second one gave a startled cry, but quickly recovered and swung their sword at Roman. He met it with his own, then lashed out with one booted foot, catching the ruffian in the thigh and kicking them to the ground.

Then he latched onto one of Virgil’s sleeves— “Come on!”

Virgil got no chance to protest or even react before Roman started dragging him along— none too soon, as more of the bandits emerged from the trees where Roman had appeared.

Luckily, Virgil turned out to be as fast a runner as Roman was. Unfortunately, their pursuers weren’t _that_ far behind; it would only take one slip to give them the chance to catch up.

This was still Roman’s forest, though— he knew it as well as any imaginary villain that inhabited it, and he had a clear destination in mind as he pulled Virgil after him. If they could just reach the spot in time…

Then, through the trees ahead of them, Roman could see it.

Apparently Virgil saw it too, because he dug his heels in, trying to stop. “Whoa— _no!_ ”

The ground in front of them dropped away in a steep embankment— but the shouts behind them were getting louder. Roman paused just long enough to sheath his sword, then grabbed Virgil’s shoulders with both hands. “ _Yes!_ ”

Without waiting for a response, he drug Virgil over the lip. They both immediately lost their footing, sliding down the embankment, and tumbling into a heap at the bottom. Roman was the first to recover, scrambling to his feet and trying to pull Virgil to his.

There was just enough of an overhang, with thick vegetation in front of it, that it couldn’t be seen from above. Roman yanked Virgil down with him, just barely managing to hide before the sound of voices drifted down to them.

“Think they went down this way?”

Virgil sucked in a loud breath, and Roman instinctively clamped a hand over the anxious side’s mouth.

“I don’t see anything… look around!”

The seconds seemed to stretch for an eternity in which the two of them stayed frozen, neither daring to move.

Until, _finally_ : “Ugh, can’t find nothin’… all right! _Keep moving!_ ”

Roman would have waited another few minutes, to be absolutely certain that the bandits had moved on. He wasn’t given the option, however; Virgil angrily shoved his hand away, elbowing him in the ribs and shooting the creative side a dirty look.

Roman grunted, flinching, and was ready to snap at Virgil. That was, until he saw the way Virgil sat stiffly with his shoulders hunched, pressing himself up against the dirt embankment— as far away from Roman as he could get in the small space.

Struck with a pang of guilt, Roman tried to apologize. “Virgil, I’m—”

“ _Whatever_ ,” Virgil growled, pulling the hood of his jacket up around his neck like a ruff. He shoved his way past the other side, clambering to his feet. Roman let out a breath, then started to push himself up as well.

Standing again, Roman allowed himself a moment to take stock of where they were: the bottom of a streambed, with water trickling over mossy rocks at their feet. It was actually rather beautiful, and under any other circumstances, Roman would have liked to stop and take the time to admire his handiwork. As it was—

“So what now?”

Roman winced, but schooled his expression as he turned to Virgil, who wore a flat look and held both arms out to the side before letting them drop.

Roman took a moment to straighten his back and take a breath, trying to project his usual air of confidence. “First thing, we should get out of this gully. We don’t want to be trapped down here if they come back.”

Virgil gestured to the bank they had slid down, and Roman immediately took his point.

“I know, it’s too steep,” Roman acknowledged, grimacing. They couldn’t go back the way they came. “The other side is shallow enough, though; we can climb up and follow the stream until we find a spot where we can cross back over.”

“Then we can start looking for Patton, _and_ Logan.” The stare Virgil gave Roman was neutral, but his tone was bitter.

Roman had no answer for that. He just moved to the opposite bank, trying to pick out the best path upwards.

“Great plan, by the way,” Virgil went on. “Splitting up? Wish I’d thought of how it could have gone wrong. Oh. _Wait_.”

Roman flinched, his hands clenching. “Virgil—” His breath caught in his throat, and Roman checked himself, ducking his head. “Let’s just… focus on finding Logan and Patton.”

He could feel Virgil’s stare boring into the back of his head.

“Sure,” was the clipped response.

With that, things were right back to how they had been the past few weeks— uncomfortable and tense. The two of them drug themselves up out of the gully, then proceeded to walk in uneasy silence; calling out for Logan and Patton was out of the question, not with the bandits already looking for them. The woods around them seemed to reflect Roman’s sinking mood, with the forest growing more dreary and lifeless with every step they took.

It was, surprisingly, Virgil who finally broke the silence. “So… this is your space, right? Can’t you just—” Virgil snapped his fingers— “and we’re all back together? Or,” he asked, eyes narrowing, “does that not fit with your ‘storyline’?”

Roman did his absolute best not to react to Virgil’s pointed jab. Instead, he tried to answer Virgil’s first question. “…Yes, I _can_ shape the imagination,” he explained, still keeping his eyes forward. “But, for something like this, I also have to surrender some control. I can’t just always… _force_ an idea, or a story. It needs to be able to flow naturally.”

“…So even in your own realm, you’re useless. Good to know.”

Roman froze. The forest around them was still and silent and gray.

Then, slowly, he turned to face Virgil. “What?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Did I stutter?”

Roman bristled, then snapped, “What the _heck_ has gotten into you, _Anxiety?_ ”

He hadn’t meant to say it— in that moment of incredulous anger it slipped out. But before Roman even had the chance to regret his choice of words, Virgil’s lips curled, and his voice dripped with sarcasm. “Aww, look who’s busting out the old names—  am I _getting_ to you, Princey?”

“Well you’re certainly doing your best to act like a _villain_ right now,” Roman shot back, guilt fading fast.

Virgil’s response took Roman entirely off guard. He just smirked, tapping the tip of his nose with one finger. “And he finally gets it.”

“Excuse you??” About a hundred questions immediately sprang to Roman’s mind, most of them some variation on, _What the heck is that supposed to mean?_ It was at this point, however, that Roman realized the imagination was starting to warp around them; everywhere he looked, it grew darker, plants withered, the wind blew cold.

He understood with a start— it was responding to _Virgil_.

“What are you _doing?_ ” Roman wheeled back towards the other side. “Stop it!”

“Make me,” Virgil taunted. “Oh _wait_ , you can’t, can you? You have to ‘surrender control’,” he said, making air quotes with his fingers.

At this point, Roman had had enough. Virgil had escalated from being rude to being outright confrontational, and if the other side wanted to play this game—

Roman caught himself again, and let out a short, hard exhalation.

 _…No_.

If Virgil was trying to get a rise out of Roman, the creative side wasn’t going to give him any further satisfaction. He straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and turned pointedly away, intending to walk off and leave Virgil to his own devices.

Instead, Roman was forced to halt, almost tripping over his own feet to avoid walking straight into a wall of gnarled roots and vines full of thorns that erupted from the ground at his feet. He backpedaled, turning to search for another way around— only to find that he and Virgil were surrounded, hedged in on all sides, cutting the two of them off from everything else.

Roman recoiled, his head whipping back to Virgil, who just smiled. “What— _how_ —” Roman realized then that the imagination wasn’t just _responding_ to Virgil— the other side was actually manipulating it, in a way that no one except Roman should have been able to. “Virgil, what’s going on??”

“Virgil? I thought I was _Anxiety_.” Virgil tilted his head, expression filled with mock concern. “…Am I making you _anxious_ , Roman?” Then Virgil’s eyes fell to where Roman’s hand had found its way to the hilt of the sword at his hip; his smirk twisted into a grin. “No… you’re _scared_.” The grin darkened, as did the air around them. “You should be.”

Roman felt like the world was spinning around him, and he couldn’t get his balance. “Are you… _threatening_ me?” Once upon a time, Roman would have believed that in a heartbeat— but he would have been _wrong_ , he told himself vehemently.

_Wouldn’t he?_

_No_ , Virgil wasn’t like this. They got mad at each other, they fought sometimes, but Virgil wouldn’t go this far… But if he was still mad, why accept Roman’s invitation in the first place? Was it some kind of joke? Virgil’s way of getting back at him?

Roman clenched his eyes and shook his head. “Virgil, enough! I don’t understand how, or _why_ you’re doing this, but we both know this isn’t you!”

Virgil snorted softly, still watching Roman with eyes full of dark amusement. “Funny. _They_ both knew it wasn’t me, either.”

A chill ran up Roman’s spine. “… _What?_ ”

The smirk never left the other side’s face. “Out here, in the middle of the woods… it’s so easy to get turned around. Separated.” Virgil’s face scrunched up in fake concern. “I hate to think about what’d happen to Thomas if they got lost in here.”

Roman couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. _Couldn’t believe what he was hearing—_

“But, there’s nothing to worry about,” Virgil dismissed casually. “Not when you have friends you can trust…” He made direct eye contact with Roman, and smiled. “Right?”

Friend or no— that was the tipping point. With a flash of steel, Roman’s sword was free of its sheath. “What have you done to them?!” he demanded.

“Hm, I don’t know… what do you think?” Virgil gestured lazily, the dark aura around him growing, and suddenly Roman could hear yells of pain coming from beyond the thicket.

“Logan! _Patton!_ ”

Roman spun frantically— blast these damned thorns, he couldn’t get through to them!

Instead, he rounded again on the other side, desperate. “Virgil, _stop!_ They’re your friends!” Virgil’s grin widened, and the sounds of pain turned to screams; Roman flinched, then advanced on Virgil, brandishing his blade. “Stop this, _now!_ ”

Virgil raised an arm surrounded by black energy, gesturing at Roman—

Roman reacted, swinging to intercept—

And for just a moment, Roman saw Virgil’s face twisted in fear, not a grin; the arm he had thrown up not crackling with dark magic, but protecting his face.

Roman’s sword sliced cleanly into Virgil’s left forearm.

The anxious side gasped for air. His face went white as a sheet. Then he crumpled, clutching at his arm— and the far-too-fast-growing bloodstain there.

And that was when the other sides found them. They ran to them, calling their names— Roman barely registered that there was no thicket separating them anymore, as Logan and Patton both drew up short, looking horrified; Patton immediately rushed to Virgil’s side.

Logan spun towards Roman. “What did you do?!”

Roman’s mouth hung open, eyes wide, unable to form words. Logan shoved past him, not waiting for an answer. The silence was filled by Virgil’s gasping breaths; he was starting to hyperventilate. Patton frantically tried to get Virgil to focus on him and slow his breathing.

Logan muttered, “He’s going into shock… We have to get him out of here so we can stitch that up.” He then rounded on Roman again, who recoiled at the fury on Logan’s face. “End this— take us back!”

Floundering for a moment, Roman tried to remember how to make his limbs work, how to make his _mind_ work.

“Logan!” Patton’s desperate cry drew the attention of both the logical and creative sides.

Virgil’s breaths were getting choppier, and his head was starting to loll— and suddenly the world around them lurched and grew darker. They all came to the awful realization at the same time:

Thomas was having an anxiety attack.

Everything around them started to devolve into chaos— tremors shaking the earth, trees toppling and collapsing around them, lightning flashing as a building storm filled the sky.

“Take us back, now!” Logan yelled again. When Roman didn’t respond, he seized a fist full of his jacket and shouted, “ _Roman!_ ” Roman flinched, but then made a curt gesture with his arm; the fantasy world dissolved around them, resolving into their own living room.

The sky outside was still dark except for flashes of lightning followed by rumbles of thunder that shook the house, while the wind howled and rattled the windows— not nearly as bad as the imagination, but Thomas’s mind was still in chaos.

Logan and Patton maneuvered Virgil onto the couch and stripped his hoodie off, totally occupied with trying to deal with his injury as quickly as they could, and hopefully stop Thomas’s panic attack.

Roman staggered back against the wall, trying to process. He _attacked_ Virgil. He genuinely thought that Virgil had turned on them, that he was hurting the others… But the terror in Virgil’s face as Roman’s sword descended was burned into his memory— as was Logan’s look of cold fury.

Patton had one hand clamped over Virgil’s bare arm; he reached out to Logan with the other, taking the piece of gauze the logical side handed him. He placed it over the cut before quickly reapplying pressure— Roman could see, his hands were covered in blood.

In Virgil’s…

Roman sank out, retreating to his room. He barely managed to stumble to the door and lock himself in before he broke down crying, which turned to sobbing.

He sank to his knees. He buried his face in his arms, fingers pulling painfully at his hair, shuddering with each gasped breath.

He missed the footsteps crossing the marble floor until their owner was right in front of him.

“Oh, Roman… what did you do?”

Roman wasn’t quite able to look up, but Deceit’s voice was unmistakable. Roman still couldn’t bring himself to move as Deceit knelt next to him.

He slowly wrapped his arms around Roman’s shoulders. “Shhh,” Deceit soothed. “I’ve got you.” In his soft, flat tone, he insisted, “Don’t worry… it’ll all be okay.”

Hearing those words from Deceit, Roman began to tremble. His face screwed up— and then, he broke down completely. His body sagged, his strength leaving him, until he was held up only by Deceit’s iron grasp.

 

 


	5. Measure for Measure

 

* * *

 

 

Thomas sat alone in his living room, gasping for breath.

He had been doing nothing more stressful than watching television, when without warning, he found himself plunged into an anxiety attack. It was made all the more terrifying by the fact that he had no idea what even started it— all he knew was, he couldn’t seem to stop it.

When it finally started to ease, Thomas found himself sitting on the floor— back pressed against his couch, legs curled up to his chest, uncertain of how long he’d been there. He was shaking, sweating, and crying; he ducked his head between his knees, just struggling to breathe.

It took several long minutes before Thomas even thought of his sides, and several more before he could manage enough focus to try summoning them.

 

* * *

 

Back in the mindscape, Virgil was still passed out, but Logan and Patton both felt the pull as they tended to the anxious side— and at first, resisted it.

Logan glanced up from where he was kneeling next to the couch, meeting Patton’s anxious gaze. “Thomas likely wants an explanation for what just happened,” he suggested. His gaze drifted back to Virgil, wondering how on Earth one could actually explain… _this_.

_Well…_

After a moment, Logan began to push himself to his feet. _If_ there was any explanation to be had, he supposed it only made sense that he be the one—

A hand on his arm halted that line of thought. Logan turned to Patton, blinking, but before he could ask, the moral side said, “You stay with Virgil.”

Again, the logical side was caught off guard. Then Logan tried to protest, but Patton cut him off.

“I think it’s better if I go.” His tone brooked no room for argument.

 

* * *

 

Thomas still sat on the floor of his living room, utterly confused and upset. When none of his sides showed up, though, his worry only grew.

 _Did something happen to them?_ He swallowed, his throat tight. What if something had? Could he even do anything about it? Thomas took a few more shuddering breaths, doing his best to stay calm and not work himself back up into another attack. Then, he tried one more time.

At first he thought he had failed again, until he heard Patton’s very somber voice.

“Hey there, Thomas.”

Thomas’s head snapped up, and his stomach gave an odd sort of leap. He couldn’t help but remember what happened with Deceit just a few weeks earlier, but tried to shove that fear back down. “Patton? …Where is everyone? What’s going on?”

Patton’s uncharacteristic reluctance to answer only made Thomas that much more worried. “It’s… complicated, kiddo.”

Thomas was taken aback, trying to find words. “Complicated… what does that… Is… is everyone okay?” It took a few seconds, but Thomas connected the dots between the other sides’ absence and his anxiety attack— “Is _Virgil_ okay?”

Patton pressed his lips together, unhappy. At last, he admitted quietly, “He will be.”

Thomas reeled. He opened his mouth to ask more, but Patton unexpectedly held up a hand and the words died on Thomas’s lips.

“We’re… still trying to get it all sorted out, right now,” Patton told him softly. “I’ll be glad to tell you more when I know it, but, in the meantime…”

Thomas had at least a hundred questions, but just nodded mutely. His gaze fell to the floor.

“Are _you_ okay, kiddo?” Thomas glanced back up. The worry in Patton’s expression made his stomach flip again. Then he felt stupid for feeling ashamed— of _course_ his sides would know he had a panic attack, they had to go through it— but he couldn’t quite help it.

“Yeah… yeah,” Thomas said at last. He ran a hand through his hair, which was damp with sweat. “I think so, now.”

Patton nodded, letting out a soft breath. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said. “…You should know, it wasn’t Virgil’s fault,” he added, quieter, making Thomas look up again. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

Thomas inhaled, then exhaled hard. “…From the sound of things, you should probably be getting back, huh?”

“I’ll stay as long as you need me to,” was Patton’s immediate response, and Thomas couldn’t help a small smile, even if it was an anxious one. “They’ve got things under control without me,” Patton insisted.

“No, it’s okay,” Thomas said. “Just… when you know more. Let me know?”

Patton nodded earnestly once more. “You betcha. And if you _need_ us—”

“I’ll call,” Thomas promised. He then gave a small wave; Patton returned it with one of his own as he sank out, leaving Thomas alone in his living room once more.

 

* * *

 

Roman sat alone on the floor of his room, back pressed against one of the legs of his bed, numb.

He didn’t know how long it’d been, or how long since Deceit disappeared; the tear stains on his face had long since dried. He was still caught between trying to process what happened, and trying not to.

He had felt Thomas’s call. He had steadfastly refused to be summoned, though, despite the discomfort of ignoring it. How could he possibly face Thomas— face the others? After what he did?

He buried his face in his hands.

Roman still couldn’t escape the mental image of Virgil bleeding. As terrified as he was of returning to the common area and facing the others, not knowing Virgil’s condition ate at him even worse. Eventually, it became too much to bear, and he managed to rouse himself enough to try to go check on the other sides.

Roman made it as far as the hallway into the living room.

He was brought up short by the sight of Virgil sleeping on the couch— left arm bandaged and in a sling. His hoodie was nowhere to be seen, but he had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. More than that, the anxious side was even paler than usual, his face drawn as though still in pain. Roman was overtaken by nausea, gripping at the wall for anything to support himself on.

Virgil was not as asleep as Roman thought, though, and— perhaps sensing Roman’s presence— he opened his eyes. They immediately widened in alarm, and his whole body stiffened.

Roman faltered, almost wilting where he stood. But he was also desperate to go to his fellow side, to make this right, though he didn’t see how he possibly could. “Virgil,” he started, taking a halting step forward. “I—”

Virgil’s reaction was immediate and visceral: “ _Stay away from me!_ ” And not just what he said, but his voice— hoarse, with an edge of distortion. Roman flinched hard, jerking back.

Logan and Patton came running, having heard Virgil’s cry. In an instant, Logan’s expression turned livid, and he looked ready to tear into Roman.

Before he could, Patton stepped in. “Logan— _don’t_ ,” he said, forcefully cutting Logan off, and put himself between the logical side and Roman. But he also glanced over his shoulder at the creative side, his voice growing quiet. “You should go. For now, at least.”

Roman rocked back on his heels, mouth hanging open, unable to form words. The rejection—  from all _three_ of them— pierced Roman straight to the heart.

He backpedaled, stumbling a few steps. Then, Roman turned and ran.

He ran, and ran, tripping over his own feet, desperate to go anywhere, so long as it was far, far away from the other sides and their fear and anger and betrayal. If Roman had been able to think clearly, he might have been able to acknowledge that wasn’t something he could outrun.

As it was, Roman found himself retreating not to his room this time, but back to Thomas’s imagination— now a dark and twisted forest, barren of life.

This time, it was Roman who felt like he couldn’t breathe. As he tripped yet again, boot catching on a gnarled root, he didn’t bother to try to keep his feet, instead falling hard to his hands and knees. He wrapped his arms around his middle, ducking his head, and folded in on himself.

_I don’t know what to do…_

“Roman, Roman… why are you crying?”

Roman gasped for breath, trying not to do just that, as Deceit’s voice drifted out to him.

“Don’t worry,” Deceit assured him softly. “They’ll take you back… They _love_ you.”

“They _hate_ me,” Roman whispered, his voice raw.

Then, as though summoned by his self-loathing, another voice joined in:

“Of _course_ we hate you.”

Roman snapped his head up so fast his neck popped. “L-Logan?”

There, emerging from the trees— the logical side bore down on him, his eyes cold and infuriated. “After what you did? How could you think we _wouldn’t_ hate you?”

“I-I—”

“How could you _do_ something so awful?” Roman’s words choked off in his throat as Patton joined Logan, tears streaming down his face. “How could you be so _horrible?!_ ” They advanced on him together, faces twisted in hatred and disgust.

For a brief second in which his heart stopped, Roman believed it actually was the other sides. He couldn’t stand, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but stare with wide eyes, withering under their verbal assault.

“We _trusted_ you!”  
“You never think.”  
“You’re supposed to be a hero!”  
“How stupid can you _be?_ ”

“You’re _pathetic_.”

Roman’s breath caught in his throat— a third voice had joined them.

Standing between Patton and Logan, a little further back, was Virgil… a Virgil who was wearing his hoodie. Who was still conscious. Who had no bandage on his arm.

And then Roman understood with a start— _they weren’t real_. They were figments of the imagination.

… _No_ , he realized a moment later, looking up. _Wait_.

Roman could see Deceit standing back in the tree line, watching him with an unblinking stare. It was _Deceit_ creating them— though he shouldn’t have been able to.

“Why are you doing this??” Roman demanded, agonized. “Why are you tormenting me with these… _illusions_ ,” Roman breathed, struck with sudden clarity.

“The truth is a terrible, hurtful thing,” Deceit answered, moving from his place in the shadows. “Fiction is so much kinder… I just want to help you see that.”

Roman staggered to his feet, pulling himself up on the trunk of a tree, mind racing. Deceit glided towards him, hands outstretched as though to help Roman up, or perhaps even to embrace him again.

“It was _you_ ,” Roman murmured. The images that made him believe Virgil was a villain and led to him attacking the other side were illusions. _Deceptions_.

He shoved himself away from Deceit’s reaching arms, backpedaling several steps. “ _You_ made me attack Virgil! _Why?!_ ”

Deceit scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh _yes_ , Roman, I _made_ you do it. I _made_ you assume the worst of your ‘ _friend’_. I _made_ you decide to fight him. And I certainly _made_ you bring that sword down on his arm—”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Roman growled.

“Just how hard did you swing?” Deceit asked, head tilting with curiosity. “There was quite a lot of blood… I wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t thrown his arm up?” Deceit pondered aloud. “But don’t worry, I’m sure Virgil will get over it and _forgive you_.”

“ _Shut up!_ ’ Roman shouted. “I don’t know what your game is,” he snapped, unsheathing his sword and advancing on the other side, “but if you think I’m going to stand by and let you harm them, _or_ Thomas—”

Deceit stared, unimpressed— and as Roman raised his sword threateningly he simply gestured with one hand.

Every muscle in Roman’s body froze.

The creative side was unable to move or speak; he tried to demand, “How?!”, but couldn’t coax more than the slightest noise from his throat. The only thing that seemed to not be paralyzed was Roman’s heart; it pounded faster and faster in his chest as he silently panicked.

Deceit huffed, then circled Roman slowly. “You _genuinely_ believe I’d hurt Thomas… Oh _Roman_ . You always make me say such _terrible_ , truthful things.” Leaning in from behind him, Deceit rested his chin on Roman’s shoulder. “It’s my job to protect Thomas— and reality? Is _cruel_.” He pulled away, completing his circle to wind up back in front of Roman. “Far better to be happy in a fantasy…” He paused, then turned to look back at the princely side. “You appreciate that.” Deceit tilted his head as though considering Roman, who was still frozen, then smiled. “Don’t worry. I’d never hurt Creativity either; I need you. Anxiety, though…”

Deceit’s smile faded.

“Anxiety is supposed to protect Thomas too.” Deceit’s lip curled into a sneer. “And doesn’t he do _such_ a good job? Thomas just _loves_ panic attacks and constantly being miserable.” He rolled his eyes, and his voice dropped to a mutter. “Virgil exposes all the parts of Thomas that he doesn’t want to see, like a raw nerve…” He locked gazes with Roman, eyes intense and unblinking. “I’ll do better.”

Then, as if a switch was flipped, he continued on, almost lightly. “Now, Morality… that just gets in the way,” he lamented, gesturing in a, ‘ _what can you do?_ ’ fashion. “We’ll have to get rid of him too.”

Roman would have thrown up if he could— Deceit was talking oh-so-casually about _murdering two of his friends!_ Then it occurred to him… Deceit wasn’t talking in the singular. He had said, _‘we’_.

Roman fought as hard as he could against Deceit’s hold, all of his muscles straining, blood pounding in his head. “Logic,” Deceit continued, unaware. “…Logan we can probably keep around, actually,” he mused. “I’ll just have to work with him a little first—”

His musings were abruptly interrupted by Roman choking out, “Nn… _nnh_ … nnn _NO!_ ”

“Hush,” Deceit ordered, and Roman’s throat closed again.

The serpentine side smiled. “You’re adorable when you’re playing the hero.” He patted Roman’s cheek; the touch burned Roman to his very core, if only because he couldn’t tear himself away from it. “Don’t worry, it won’t always be like this,” Deceit assured him smoothly. “But right now, I do require your assistance— we’re going to go save the handsome Prince Thomas from himself.” He gently gripped the lapels of Roman’s jacket, fixing his collar for him, then looked back up into Roman’s eyes, smiling widely.

“Isn’t it nice to be needed, Roman?”

 


	6. Tempest

Logan had never appreciated the idea of silence being deafening until now. It was inherently contradictory— the kind of flowery language that Roman adored but which didn’t actually make any sense.

Now, with a sickening sort of clarity, Logan was starting to understand the concept.

Logan and Patton still watched over Virgil, who had finally settled back into a restless sleep on the couch. Both were tired and drawn; neither said a word, but the events of the evening still weighed heavily on them.

Patton stood at the kitchen sink, every now and again glancing towards the living room and the other two sides. Virgil was still unconscious on the couch; Logan was in the recliner with a book whose pages he hadn’t turned for at least five minutes now.

The moral side’s gaze lingered on Virgil as he started to scrub the same bowl for the third time, reflecting on what happened. What he and Logan had seen. The way they had all reacted— particularly Virgil, when he’d woken up— and, Roman’s reaction in turn.

Virgil had to be the priority, with how bad his wound had been, but Roman had been undeniably distressed as well. More than that, Patton was absolutely certain they didn’t know the whole story yet. He simply could not believe that Roman would just attack Virgil like that.

But then… _why?_

Patton blinked down at the dish in his hands, as though surprised to find it clean. He started to reach for the faucet to rinse it, but then hesitated. After a moment, he set the bowl down in the sink instead, then took a few slow steps into the living room.

“…I’m going to find Roman.”

The abrupt end to the silence caught Logan unawares; Patton could see him sit up suddenly. He could also see the muscles in Logan’s jaw clench as he processed Patton’s announcement, but the logical side managed to refrain from sharing whatever he was thinking of saying. “All right,” was all he offered instead.

A few minutes later found Patton making his way down their hallway, pausing as he came to Roman’s door, before knocking gently.

“Roman?”

Patton uncurled his fist, letting his hand rest against the door, and exhaled.

“Roman… I wanted to apologize, for asking you to leave.” His voice was small. “Things were about to blow up, and, none of us were in a state to handle that. But,” he winced, “I know it still must have hurt, and I’m _sorry_ for doing that to you.”

After a moment, Patton let his hand fall. His forehead wrinkled.

“…Roman? Buddy? …You in there?”

His fingers brushed the knob of Roman’s door; Patton hesitated just a moment, but then tried the handle to find it unlocked, and he pushed Roman’s door ajar.

Leaning in a little ways, he whispered, in case the princely side was just asleep, “Roman?” Still, nothing.

Patton pushed the door all the way open and stepped in. A quick glance around the room confirmed it— Roman wasn’t there. In fact, he couldn’t feel the other side at all.

The worry gnawing at Patton’s insides became that much more insistent, and his brows drew together.

 

* * *

 

Deceit seemed to not have a care in the world— he might have even been humming, as he sauntered down the hallways leading to the common area, at last making his play— all with Roman unwillingly alongside him, unable to utter a word or keep his feet from carrying him wherever Deceit liked.

A gesture from the other side had Roman frozen in place again. Deceit glanced back at him; a moment later, Roman found himself locking eyes with a smirking Patton, adjusting the sleeves of his cat hoodie where they were tied around his shoulders.

Roman’s throat strained to scream in protest, but all he could do was watch as the disguised Deceit rounded the corner into the living room, and towards Logan and Virgil.

The conversation drifted back to him: Logan asking quietly, “Did you find him?” and Deceit denying it, his voice dripping with fake sorrow. Roman raged in his mind, _Logan can’t possibly be falling for this!_

But then he could hear Deceit say, “You look exhausted.”

“It… has been a trying day.” Logan’s voice was subdued. “For all of us.”

“You need _sleep_ ,” Deceit insisted, sounding every bit the concerned parental figure. “I can watch Virgil. You go rest for a while.”

“I… yes. Alright,” Logan accepted wearily. Roman’s heart plummeted.

His last few shreds of hope hinged on the idea that Logan might just round the corner and see him standing there, paralyzed by Deceit’s hold— but instead, Logan sank out, and those final scraps of hope died.

“ _Roman_.” Deceit’s words were like an electric current feeding directly into Roman’s nervous system. “Come here,” the other side bid him, and Roman’s legs obeyed.

As he walked into the living room, Roman saw Deceit standing there, still wearing Patton’s appearance. Behind him, Virgil remained passed out on the couch, and no amount of mental pleading was waking him up. The snake-like side made direct eye contact with Roman, before pointedly shifting forms again— and this time, it was Logan staring back at him.

Deceit just smiled— then gestured Roman towards Virgil.

Roman tried to fight it with everything he had. And yet, his body still moved, in jerking steps— one, then another. Nothing he did could keep Deceit from wielding him like a string puppet— the other side’s sway over him was just too strong. Roman cursed himself for all those nights of tolerating Deceit’s presence, listening to his lies, letting himself pretend they were anything but what they were because he wanted to hear them.

And now— now, he was about to be the helpless witness to the murder of one of his friends— his _family_ — at his own hands.

And with that, Roman found himself clamping one of his hands over Virgil’s mouth, instantly waking the anxious side.

Virgil let out a panicked yell, though it was muffled by Roman’s hand, which turned into a choked grunt as the prince planted his right knee into Virgil’s diaphragm.

Virgil was wide-eyed with fear and confusion; he clawed desperately at Roman’s arm with his one good hand and tried to use his legs to lever himself up, but Roman had most of his weight pinning the anxious side to the couch.

Then, confused panic became outright terror, as Roman’s other hand moved to his belt and slowly drew the dagger that was sheathed there.

Virgil’s eyes locked onto Roman’s, pleading. Roman’s face was twisted in an expression of anguish, sweat beading on his forehead, shuddering again. No, no, he couldn’t do this, _he couldn’t let Deceit make him do this!_

And yet his arm continued to move of its own volition, positioning the dagger over Virgil.

The other side screamed from behind his hand, abandoning his attempts to get said hand away from his face. Instead, Virgil latched onto Roman’s other wrist, straining to keep the creative side from plunging his dagger into his chest.

“ _Roman?!_ ”

The frantic cry caught them all off guard— Patton stood in the opening to the hallway, his expression of horror mirroring Roman’s own— but Patton wasn’t frozen.

He immediately dashed for Roman, hands outstretched to seize the blade— only to be tackled and grabbed from the side.

“Lo— _mmf!_ ”

Before Patton could even register what happened, Deceit had one arm wrapped around the moral side’s torso, pinning his arms to his sides, and the other hand wrapped around Patton’s mouth, preventing him from crying out. Virgil strained under Roman’s arms, trying to yell again; Roman could do nothing but watch.

Patton reeled, blindsided by being attacked by what he thought was another one of his friends— at least, until he got a glimpse of ‘Logan’s face as he struggled to free himself. Then, his eyes narrowed, and his expression melted into something Roman had _never_ seen on him before: _hatred_.

A sort of growling sound that might have been ‘Deceit’ came from Patton’s throat, and suddenly he was fighting tooth and nail, kicking and writhing, and Deceit had his hands full trying to wrestle the moral side back under control.

Deceit’s momentary distraction had another consequence: it allowed Roman to hesitate, the dagger still hovering above Virgil’s chest. But then, the deceitful side hissed, “Finish it, and help me with this one!”

Roman’s muscles spasmed, jerking to obey. His gaze refocused on Virgil, who frantically shook his head, fingernails tearing into the skin of Roman’s wrist as the creative side bore down.

Then, several things happened at once: Deceit wrenched his hand away from Patton’s mouth with a yell, a distinct bite mark bruising several fingers. Roman gasped for breath, tears streaming from his face now— Virgil was able to shove his arm back up a few inches.

And Patton screamed desperately, “ _Roman!_ You don’t have to do this! I know you’re a hero— a _prince_ — and you’re _stronger than Deceit!_ ”

Then his words were quite literally choked off, as Deceit wrapped his arm around Patton’s throat and started to squeeze, prompting another terrified shout from Virgil.

Deceit’s unblinking stare fell on Roman as he countered Patton’s words. “He’s not a prince, he’s a _puppet_.” His gaze didn’t waver, even as Patton’s fingers clawed and pried at his arm; the moral side’s face was starting to turn red. “Roman is mine entirely, and he is _utterly powerless_ to stop this.”

Deceit and Patton were both suddenly sent sprawling, as something smashed into the back of Deceit’s head, accompanied by a strangled shriek:

“ ** _FALSEHOOD!!_** ”

The real Logan stood over top of them, wielding an Oxford Dictionary, eyes wide and panting hard.

As Deceit went down, Roman staggered as well— Virgil immediately wrenched himself sideways, shoving at the hand with the dagger and twisting the rest of his body to dump Roman off of him and onto the floor. Roman fell to his hands and knees, still holding the dagger, while Virgil slid half off the couch, and scrambled to get to his feet and away from Roman.

Logan called out to him, “Virgil!”

“Get Patton!” Virgil yelled back.

The side in question was wheezing for air; Logan only dithered for a fraction of a second before abandoning his book and hurrying to untangle Patton from Deceit. He yanked the other side to his feet, while Virgil tried to fumble his way to them.

Logan caught Virgil’s good arm with one of his, gripping it tightly. “Are you all right?” He cut off Virgil’s attempt to wave him off, voice urgent: “Are you _injured?_ ”

“ _No,_ ” Virgil insisted. Though after a moment he admitted, “I’m still a little woozy from blood loss, but, I’ve got enough adrenaline pumping right now to last a couple days.”

Logan opened his mouth to respond, but it was that moment that Deceit chose to rejoin the fight. Hooking a leg between Logan’s ankles and wrenching hard, the dishonest side swept Logan’s feet out from under him, and the logical side went down equally hard.

Virgil and Patton both cried out, but as Deceit rolled to his feet, Patton shoved Virgil behind him, making Virgil stumble. Patton was still breathing hard, though, and his reflexes were too sluggish; by the time his attention was back on Deceit, the other side had already come up swinging.

Deceit decked Patton straight in the jaw, producing a sickening crack and practically dropping him. He was kept from crashing to the floor by an only-just-keeping-it-together Virgil. But the anxious side barely had time to worry about his companion before Deceit started bearing down on them again.

The serpentine side still wore Logan’s appearance, but with a cruel smile that looked horrifyingly out of place on Logan’s face. Virgil recoiled, still clinging to a staggered Patton who was trying to get his legs back under him, but there was only so far he could go.

It was Deceit’s turn to be blindsided, however, by a full-body tackle from behind— Logan, the _real_ Logan, threw himself at Deceit, and the two went down again in a mess of flailing limbs. Patton finished pushing himself up, Virgil trying to help, when the fight in front of them drew their attention back.

One of the two shoved the other off. They stumbled a few steps, trying to keep their feet, while the first one scrambled to regain theirs— and Patton and Virgil were left facing two Logans, who both seemed to take notice of them at the same time.

Virgil swore under his breath, while Patton’s eyes flicked to something on the floor. One of the Logans quickly insisted, “That’s Deceit!” while the other countered, “No, he’s lying! I’m—”

The one speaking was suddenly struck in the face by a flying dictionary, and knocked totally flat on his back. Only for him to demand in a shriek a moment later, “What the heck was _that??_ ”

Patton blinked, straightening up. “Logan?”

The side in question clutched at his forehead. “You didn’t even _attempt_ to determine which one of us was lying?!”

“I didn’t know what to do, I just went with my gut!”

“ _Internal organs are not an acceptable substitute for deductive reasoning!_ ”

“Well, now we know which one is which,” Virgil muttered. But then he stiffened, choking out, “ _Look out!_ ”

Patton’s unintended assault on Logan had given Deceit more than enough time to go on the offensive again. This time though, Patton was better prepared— when Deceit rushed them, Patton lunged forward to intercept his grab, leaving the two grappling with each other.

Meanwhile in all of this, Roman had made no attempt to move from where he had collapsed on the floor. Deceit’s distraction with the ongoing fight kept him from maintaining his control over the creative side, but just trying to move took a huge amount of effort, as though Roman had to fight to do even that much.

As the others wrestled with Deceit, Roman was just barely able to pull himself up on the couch until he was on his knees. From there, he could see them fighting. Saw them struggling to overpower Deceit, to protect each other.

Roman’s body swayed, limbs twitching but refusing to answer. They were fighting for their lives and all he could do was sit on the floor. He was desperate to help them, he _had_ to help them—

But then, Patton clocked Logan with the dictionary. Deceit got a moment to collect himself— and Roman felt his muscles seize again.

Back in the thick of it, Virgil hesitated. He was torn between the panic that demanded he flee, and the fear of Patton getting hurt, defending _him_. As if jinxed by his own treacherous thoughts, Deceit managed to plant a fist into Patton’s gut, doubling him over.

“ _Patton!_ ”

Thoughts of running were drowned out by fury as Virgil flung himself at Deceit— or, tried to.

Deceit saw the anxious side coming, and yanked Patton in between them. Virgil tripped over himself, catching himself on Patton. He cursed, trying to push away so he wasn’t trapping the moral side between him and Deceit.

At the same time, Virgil spotted movement from behind the other two— Logan had regained his feet and was rushing to rejoin the fight. Then, his focus shifted back to Deceit.

The other side locked gazes with him over Patton’s head— then narrowed his eyes and smirked. Before either Virgil or Patton could react, Deceit lashed out with a kick— straight into Virgil’s knee.

Pain robbed Virgil of all breath, all control. His leg buckled and he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. He was dimly aware of angry yells above him— or were they frightened?— of Logan slamming into Deceit’s back, of the mess of thrashing bodies still fighting overhead.

Virgil let out a hiss, clawing at the carpet, trying to drag himself clear. His injured arm was in pain, his leg was in _agony_ , and all he could repeat in his mind was, _stupid, stupid,_ **_stupid!_ ** Why the heck did he try to jump in when he _knew_ that he was hurt and weak and more liable to get in the way than help??

A thud and a grunt had Virgil twisting to glance back at the fight. Deceit was on the floor; Patton had his arm twisted up behind his back. Meanwhile Logan had retrieved his dictionary and was brandishing it threateningly.

While Virgil was watching this, however, something seized the collar of his shirt and— cutting into his throat— yanked him backwards.

 

* * *

 

The second that Virgil went down to Deceit’s kick, Logan and Patton were on him again; Logan hitting Deceit hard, Patton quite literally jumping on him as they threw Deceit to the floor, ending with the moral side planting a knee in Deceit’s back.

But then, a pained sound from across the room drew their attention— and they both froze.

Roman was on his knees, Virgil hauled into a sitting position in front of him. One of Roman’s arms was wrapped around his neck, craning his head back; his other trembling hand clutched the dagger, held alongside Virgil’s exposed throat.

The creative side was once more under Deceit’s control.

“ _No!_ ” “ _Roman!_ ” Logan and Patton stared with matching looks of horror, but neither dared to move.

Virgil trembled, breathing hard. His fingers dug ineffectually into the fabric of Roman’s sleeve, eyes full of terror. Tears streaked Roman’s face again, his expression one of fear and pain and despair.

“ _Roman_ … _please_ …” Virgil’s words were a hoarse whisper; Roman felt a wetness soaking through his sleeve and realized that Virgil was crying as well.

“I’m sorry,” Deceit mocked, despite his precarious position, “the old Roman can’t come to the phone right now.”

Patton snapped his head up to Logan, eyes wide. “Knock him out!” Logan hefted the dictionary—

Deceit simply said, “Kill him.”

“ _No!!_ ”

Roman’s hand clenched on the dagger, his arm twitching; Virgil inhaled sharply.

The moment seemed to stretch. Roman was so exhausted; he couldn’t fight any more. Even if he were able to, he couldn’t stop himself. But, he _couldn’t kill Virgil_ … He was a prince— a hero— heroes _protect_ others.

Roman’s hand twitched again. Be a hero. _Be a hero_.

The moment passed. The dagger plunged in.

Screams filled the room. Virgil jerked, clenching his eyes shut.

Roman gasped, sucking for air. His hands unclenched— Virgil fell away from him. The dagger stayed exactly where it was: buried in Roman’s chest, just above where Virgil’s shoulder had been a moment before.

The anxious side’s chest heaved, and he clutched at his heart, not understanding why he wasn’t dead. It took a second for Virgil to realize that he hadn’t actually been stabbed. But then, he spun— and saw exactly what Roman had done.

Deceit hissed— and Logan smashed the dictionary into his head one last time. This time, Deceit didn’t move again, and after a moment, his image blurred from that of Logan’s into his own form. Logan and Patton hastily abandoned his unconscious body to rush to Virgil and Roman.

Virgil was doing his best to hold Roman up with one arm as the prince started to sag. Tears streamed down Roman’s cheeks. “Virgil— I-I— I’m _sorry_ …”

“ **Shut up,** ” Virgil insisted, his voice upset and distorted once again.

Then the other two were there, on their knees as well, supporting him on all sides. Roman tried to suck in another breath, shuddering from pain and exhaustion, eyes burning and blurry. “Everyone, I’m so sorry,” he choked out.

Patton insisted, arms wrapping around Roman’s shoulders, “It wasn’t your fault, just hold on!”

Logan said something as well, something urgent, but Roman couldn’t hear. Everything was muffled; his vision was going gray at the edges, moving steadily inwards—

Until suddenly, he couldn’t see or hear or feel anything at all.

 


	7. Love's Labours Lost

Roman was aware of being awake before he opened his eyes. It only took a moment to realize he was on the couch, shirtless, and tucked under a comforter. His shoulder was bandaged but pain still shot through it when he shifted.

There was no moment where Roman didn’t remember exactly what happened.

He didn’t know how long he laid there, trying to cling to the last vestiges of sleep, because opening his eyes— admitting he was awake— meant confronting the reality of what happened. That thought was immediately followed by another: _pretending is what caused this whole disaster in the first place_. Roman’s stomach flipped, his hands and expression tightening, and he realized that he wasn’t alone when he heard Patton’s quiet voice asking, “Roman?”

Still he hesitated, still not able to bear the thought of facing the others. But he could hear Patton’s footsteps bringing him to Roman’s side, the scraping of a chair as he sat. Roman wanted to shrivel up and disappear. Instead, reluctantly, he opened his eyes, blinking up at the moral side.

Patton gave a small smile, but his eyes were full of something far more serious. Roman was struck by a very Virgil-like desire to pull the blanket up over his head— then his heart lurched, and all he could choke out was, “ _Virgil—_ ”

Patton quickly gripped Roman’s arm and assured him, “He’s okay! See?”

Roman craned his neck to see where Patton was pointing. He was startled to find Virgil curled up in the recliner past the end of the couch, still missing his hoodie, and arm still in a sling. It appeared that Virgil had been asleep, but upon hearing his name called out, he started to rouse. As he did, his eyes met Roman’s, and Roman recalled— his arm locked around Virgil’s neck, his blade at his throat, Virgil’s pleading whisper—

Roman flinched, closing his eyes and half-burying his face in his pillow, never mind the pain the sudden movement brought him. There were a few seconds of silence in which Roman was certain Patton and Virgil were exchanging a look.

Patton’s soft voice broke the silence. “I’ll get Logan.”

Roman knew this was inevitable. Of course they would want to know what happened, _how_ this could have happened. He owed them whatever explanations they demanded of him, but Roman didn’t see any way things could ever be okay between the four of them again.

Then Patton returned with Logan. The two of them spoke first, soft and hesitant. They related the aftermath of the fight— reiterating that Virgil was all right, assuring Roman that he would be as well, though (like Virgil) his wound was not insubstantial— and that they’d shut Deceit in his room.

But then, Logan quietly prompted Roman. “We need your account… even if only a cursory one… of what led up to Deceit being able to take control of you.”

The creative side could feel his heart sink down into his stomach. But he knew, he couldn’t deny them this.

And so, Roman told them how Deceit had manipulated him. His explanation was slow and halting; he stuttered through it at points, stumbling over his words which felt thick and heavy in his throat.

Through the whole thing, he avoided eye contact with any of the others, instead casting his gaze towards the floor, or his blanket, or just about anything except them. This was how he noticed the piece of parchment sitting on the coffee table, bearing his by-now-forgotten idea and a sparse handful of notes… written in _blue_.

The discrepancy startled Roman enough to make him fumble his words again. He had to force his train of thought back on track, though he didn’t miss Logan’s forehead wrinkling, or that the logical side’s eyes flicked down to the piece of paper and back up to him.

 _Finally_ , Roman managed to get through it all, up to the point where Deceit had him completely under his control, and there he choked. But the others didn’t have to prompt him any further; they already knew the rest.

The other sides exchanged significant looks with one another; Roman kept his head down. He didn’t want to see. Instead, downtrodden, he berated himself quietly. “None of this would have happened if I had just swallowed my pride and come to you all for help in the first place, instead of shutting myself away.”

Then, plaintively, softly— because he couldn’t handle them hating him, and had to _try_ to explain, even though it was just making excuses and sounded pathetic and petulant in his own ears— Roman murmured, “I… I did _try_. To talk to you, a few times. …I obviously did a very _poor job_ of it, but, I tried,” he trailed off in a whisper. “You just always seemed so… irritated with me. Like you wanted me to stay away.”

“That’s not true!” Patton immediately insisted, dismayed.

Logan offered, “Quite the opposite, in fact. You always seemed excessively irritable towards _us_.”

Roman again wished he could shrink and disappear. And yet, he couldn’t help but remember— “But… you all kept making those comments… muttering under your breath, like I couldn’t hear you…” he started, only to be met with confusion.

He hesitated. Roman knew how accusatory his words sounded, and what right did he have to accuse them of anything? _Just shut up. Just forget it._ But part of him still ached to know— if they hadn’t been trying to shut him out… then _why?_ He turned and looked at Virgil, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. “You even said… with me gone, ‘things were actually peaceful around here for once’…”

Logan and Patton immediately turned to look at a wide-eyed Virgil, who spoke for the first time since Roman awoke. “I _never_ said that!”

Roman’s eyebrows furrowed. “So, I just imagined it?”

As soon as the words tumbled from Roman’s lips, though, a very real and awful possibility occurred to him. But he had little time to consider it, as Virgil addressed the one thing that Roman had been dreading: “Speaking of imagining things… you want to talk about this?” He gestured to his injured arm.

Roman quailed. He realized, _now_ , that Deceit had played him badly, making him see Virgil as a villain who sought to hurt the others and who needed to be thwarted— while in truth, his fellow side had just been upset and scared.

When Roman didn’t answer, Patton gently prompted him. “Was Deceit controlling you then?”

Roman’s face screwed up in misery, but he shook his head once.

Virgil shifted in his chair, gripping his left arm more tightly with his right hand. His face was an inscrutable mask.

Roman was barely able to press on in a shaky whisper. “Deceit made illusions… made me think… I heard you screaming— I didn’t realize—” Roman couldn’t finish, bringing his hands to his face. Virgil raised one incredulous eyebrow at Roman’s explanation, but remained silent.

Logan chose to speak up, then. “…I would reason, if I may… that Deceit was able to influence what Roman saw and heard when he interacted with the rest of us, even before then. Maybe not much,” he posited. “A look here, a word or two there—” He gently placed his fingers on the parchment bearing Roman’s idea, considering it. “Just enough to put Roman on the defensive, and cause him to react more harshly than he normally would. And…” He pulled his hand back. “It certainly didn’t help that we responded in kind.” Logan glanced over at Patton, then amended his statement. “… _I_ … responded in kind.”

Patton’s expression was all too understanding and sympathetic, and Logan’s eyes fell to the floor, fingers fidgeting where they were folded in his lap.

Virgil broke in, “Not just you. It was both of us.”

Patton took that opportunity to ask, “But why _was_ it only Roman? Why didn’t Deceit try to do the same to all of us?” He looked to Logan, clearly hoping the logical side had an answer. “Or better yet, _how_ was Deceit able to do all those things in the first place? He’s never been able to before.”

“Yeah,” Virgil jumped in. “Like being able to completely _control_ one of us??”

Logan tried to be very careful of how he responded, but at length he said, “I think it’s possible that… Deceit is stronger when he is around Roman.” His gaze flicked over the side in question again. “…Even able to draw power from him. Which, would also explain why he spent so much time lingering in Roman’s room.”

Roman surprised them all by cutting back in, sounding sick. “He said, he ‘needed me’.”

The creative side then hid his face in his hands again, now burning with shame and questioning his every interaction with the others.

“Oh God, how could I have been so utterly _stupid?_ Patton, bringing me lunch? Logan trying to talk about my idea? The idiotic argument that started this whole accursed thing? Did that even happen, or did Deceit just fool me into thinking it did??”

“…No, that… happened,” Logan answered. “So did the other times, for what it’s worth.”

“Y’know, Roman,” Patton started, taking a breath in. “I think Deceit just saw an opportunity and decided to take it.”

“An opportunity I gave him,” the princely side mumbled.

“ _Roman_ ,” Patton cut in. “Families are bound to get into disagreements. Even argue, sometimes.” He reached out, gently placing a hand on Roman’s elbow. “That fight was no more your fault than anyone else’s.” Here, Patton’s expression faltered. “…What Deceit did do, was keep us from making up and coming back together.”

“He had to know there was no way he could face the four of us, united,” Logan murmured. “In order to have any chance of success, he had to keep Roman isolated from the rest of us.”

“And for _that_ …” Patton’s eyes locked with Roman’s, and Roman realized that they were glassy. Patton shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Roman. You should never have had to deal with this by yourself.”

Roman couldn’t keep holding Patton’s gaze, and looked away. “It’s not as though I gave you much choice,” he deferred. “I’m the one who shut myself away.”

“And we shouldn’t have let you do it,” Patton insisted, teary eyed. “We should have been there for you, and we weren’t. And I’m _sorry_.”

Roman had to blink away tears of his own, scrubbing at his face with the back of his arm. Silence filled the room once more, none of them quite sure what to say next.

After a minute, Patton rose from his chair, starting to move towards the kitchen; Logan touched his shoulder. “It’s been a long and trying night, for everyone… we all need rest.” He cut off Patton’s expected protest with, “ _You_ , included.”

“You can’t seriously be suggesting we leave Roman _alone?_ ” Patton asked incredulously. “Or Virgil, for that matter.”

Roman’s heart raced at that thought, fear creeping up through his middle. He was out of immediate danger from his wound, but the idea of being left by himself, even knowing that Deceit had been thwarted and shut in his room…

Logan headed off that line of thought. “Not precisely. I thought it might be more prudent to set up some cots here in the living room.”

Patton brightened a little at that. “Like a—”

“Sleepover, yes,” Logan acknowledged, voice suggesting that he was humoring Patton.

“I was going to say, ‘slumber party’,” the moral side offered. Logan just made a flat noise, earning a grin from Patton, though it was tired.

Roman kept quiet, settling into a sort of numbness, watching the activity around him as Logan and Patton set up cots and pulled out linens. The strangest part was that at moments, things sounded almost _normal_. Even Virgil, silently curled up in the armchair, wouldn’t have been so out of place. Just give him his hoodie and a set of headphones and he’d look totally natural… except for the tension in his frame, and the way he stared blankly at the wall directly opposite from Roman.

Blood loss and exhaustion— physical and emotional— caught back up with Roman soon enough. With nothing to occupy him, he started to drift, the sounds of the others moving around quietly lulling him to a mercifully sleepy state.

Finishing making up a bed for himself on one of the cots, Patton glanced over at Roman, caught between the desire to check on him and to let him rest. He instead grabbed a blanket and pillow from their pile and made his way over to Virgil who he knew was just going to want to sleep in the recliner. He was brought up short by seeing the anxious side holding his head, rubbing at his temple with his thumb, mouth drawn.

“Virge— are you okay?”

“No,” Virgil answered readily. That brought Patton and Logan’s full attention round to him. Before they could ask, though, Virgil told them outright: “Someone’s _got_ to go talk to Thomas.” Virgil had been uncomfortably aware of Thomas’s growing distress; it hadn’t been a good time for any of them to leave before, but now it was close to reaching a breaking point. “He’s going to give _himself_ another panic attack if this keeps up.”

Logan and Patton spent a minute talking quietly with each other, trying to decide who would be the one to go; both were reluctant to leave.

Restless (and trying not to be irritated), Virgil ended the debate by insisting, “ _Both_ of you go. I can watch Princey.”

Logan gave him a dubious stare. “You have one functioning arm and leg.”

“Oh is _that_ what happened, I was wondering why it hurt every time I tried to stand up.”

“ _Virgil_ —”

“It’s fine,” he told them. The looks he was getting told Virgil he wasn’t fooling anyone. He sighed. “You’re just going to talk to Thomas. And I’ll call you back if anything happens. Just don’t take forever.”

The moral and logical sides exchanged a look, before reluctantly giving in. After a little more fretting, they finally sank out together, leaving the common area in silence once again.

Virgil at last looked over at Roman. He could see how pale the creative side still was, how his face was drawn, even when he wasn’t awake. Virgil sat there, listening to Roman’s breathing, and after a long moment let out a protracted breath of his own, leaning back into his chair.

 


	8. All's Well That Ends…

Thomas sat cross legged in the middle of his bed. He tried to take slow, deep breaths, hoping that might help to calm the painful palpitations in his chest.

The alarm clock read just after 2:00 in the morning. He was once again soaked with sweat, and shivered as his air conditioner kicked on.

He’d just had what he didn’t think was an exaggeration to call the worst nightmare of his life. He couldn’t remember it now, only that he was absolutely terrified— and that he woke up thinking he was having an actual heart attack and dying.

Thomas wanted so badly to call on his sides again. Something more _had_ to have happened; it was killing him to not know what was going on. And he knew Patton said he should call them if he needed them. But Thomas was also aware that it had only been a few hours. If it was like last time, the sides probably had their hands full trying to take care of things themselves.

Thomas held off as long as he could, but he couldn’t stave off the growing anxiety in him forever. It wasn’t just that he was still in the dark about _whatever_ it was that was going on— but the thought that it might _keep_ happening. He didn’t want to go back to sleep if it brought on another nightmare like that. Or what if he had another unexpected anxiety attack? There was no way he could possibly leave the apartment, not with the chance that one could hit him while he was driving.

He did his best to hold it together as the hours crept by, to try to distract himself with things like music and Netflix and warm mugs of tea… but Thomas felt too frayed to focus on anything for long. He just couldn’t seem to calm back down, or keep all the terrible ‘what-if’s out of his head.

Sitting on his couch in the quiet and dark of the early morning, Thomas was almost to his tipping point, when without any warning or preamble two of his sides appeared on their own.

Thomas leapt to his feet, heart pounding again, but he was too relieved to care. “Patton! Logan!” The sides didn’t get an opportunity to speak, as Thomas frantically questioned them. “Is Virgil still okay? And where’s Roman? What’s been happening?? …Are those _bruises?_ ” Thomas asked all of a sudden, staring.

Logan and Patton looked to each other, before Logan admitted, “Yes.”

“You guys can _get_ bruised?” Thomas asked incredulously.

“We can get a lot worse than that,” Logan muttered, and Thomas fell silent in shock. Patton shot Logan a _look_ ; it took a moment, but Logan at least appeared a little abashed as he realized his indiscretion.

Thomas was still taken aback at the implication, mouth working as he tried to find what to say.

Finally he settled on, “Guys… _please_. Tell me what’s going on.” He looked between his two sides, pleading.

“…Deceit,” they answered simultaneously. Thomas reeled, taking an unconscious step back.

“It’s a long story,” Logan warned quietly.

“Okay…” Thomas slowly sunk into his couch, then looked back up at both of them. “Okay,” he repeated. “Tell me.”

 

* * *

 

When Roman awakened again, he at first made the mistake of thinking he was alone. Alarmed, he tried to push himself up on his side, hissing at the pain in his shoulder. A quiet voice startled him into halting: “You probably shouldn’t sit up.”

Roman snapped his head over to see Virgil still sitting in the recliner. He had one leg curled up, his hoodie draped over his knee and across his lap, and was eyeing Roman. As soon as they made eye contact, though, he glanced away. Roman dropped his eyes as well, feeling heat prickling up the back of his neck, but settled back down on the couch.

“You need anything?” The question surprised Roman, whose gaze darted back up to Virgil; the anxious side was staring at something in his lap, but seeing as there was no one else present, Roman was the only person he could be speaking to.

He opened his mouth, hesitating, then shook his head slightly. “No, I’m… I’m fine,” he answered, voice small, suddenly aware of the dryness in his mouth. That wasn’t worthy of asking Virgil to get up, though, particularly considering the crutches that Roman just then noticed on the floor beside Virgil’s chair.

Virgil paused in whatever he was doing, glancing at Roman from under his bangs before looking away again. “There’s a bottle of water on the floor next to the couch,” he said simply.

Again, Roman was surprised, then he flushed. Still, he rolled over just enough to find that there was indeed a bottle of water resting there, cold and covered in condensation. He took it, propping himself up on his elbow to open it and take a drink before resettling himself.

Neither of them spoke. Roman couldn’t help but wonder where Logan and Patton were, but didn’t ask, and Virgil didn’t volunteer the information, instead focusing on something in his lap. Roman tried not to watch Virgil, certain his attention was unwanted.

After a few minutes and a lack of anything else to draw said attention, however, Roman found his eyes wandering back to the anxious side. It took Roman a few moments to realize what he was working on, before he saw Virgil pulling on a needle and thread— he was sewing up part of his hoodie. He was—

 _He was sewing up the cut in the sleeve_.

Roman was stricken once more, and hastily looked away, his stomach rolling. Virgil couldn’t miss Roman’s reaction, and stiffened. After a moment, he set the hoodie to the side, shifting uncomfortably.

Roman would have had to be completely oblivious to miss that Virgil was still upset being around him. How could he blame him, though? The creative side was miserably aware of how much he deserved Virgil’s anger, even hate, after everything he did to him.

At length, Roman could stand the tension no more, even though he was certain Virgil didn’t want to speak to him. He didn’t want to do this laying down, though. Not that Roman thought he could manage looking Virgil in the eye, even if the other side wanted to, but he already felt weak and pathetic and small. 

And so— even knowing how badly it would hurt— he pushed himself up into a sitting position, sucking air between his teeth and clutching at his shoulder.

Virgil of course immediately took notice— “Roman!”— but it wasn’t as though he could jump up to stop the other side, who just forced himself through it. He _had_ to say this.

“Virgil— I—” And already, he choked, having no idea what he could possibly say, how he could express what he was trying to, how to fix _any of this_.

“Roman, it’s fine,” Virgil tried to defer, but Roman shook his head.

“ _No_ — it’s— it’s _not_. I don’t…” He let out a breath that was half sob. “I don’t even know how to… I’m _sorry_ ,” he said at last, voice cracking. He brought his hands up to press his palms to his eyes, trying hard not to cry. It sounded so pitiful and worthless in his ears— _how fitting_ , he couldn’t help but think.

“Roman, you don’t… have to do this.” Virgil still sat stiffly, and grasped his left forearm, just above where it was bandaged.

Roman lifted his head ever so slightly. “I don’t have to apologize for trying to _kill_ you?” His words may have been rueful, but his voice and expression were sickened. Virgil inhaled sharply, trying to cover his unease and failing. Roman watched Virgil for a moment longer, before his eyes drifted away, staring across the living room, unfocused and glassy. “…For almost succeeding?”

“…It wasn’t you,” Virgil insisted quietly. “It… wasn’t your fault.”

“How is it _not my fault?_ ” Roman cried, taking Virgil aback. He buried his face again, then raked his fingers upwards through his hair. “I _let_ Deceit gain power over me! Just because I was too _stupid_ to realize that’s what was happening doesn’t mean I’m not to blame!” Tears now streaked freely down his face, and he dropped one hand to wrap around his stomach, the other wrapped around the back of his head.

“Roman,” Virgil tried to cut in, but Roman went on.

“And what about in the imagination? Deceit wasn’t controlling me then, that was _me!_ ” He ducked his head towards his knees.

“He was still deceiving you,” Virgil managed to get out, the words awkward and fumbled. “You were just trying to protect everyone.” Roman let out a choked laugh, shaking his head, clutching himself tighter. “ _Roman—_ I’m… I’m _not_ …” Virgil let out a harsh breath. “Last night. What happened…”

“ _You_ don’t have to do this, Virgil.” Roman’s voice was thin and thready. “You don’t have to make excuses for me.” He gave a mirthless laugh, eyes swollen and red. “…You’ve always had the right of it, you know? I _am_ a clueless moron, one hundred percent of—”

“Would you _shut up_ and _let me talk??_ ” Virgil’s outburst made Roman flinch. “I’m trying to thank you for _saving my life_.”

Roman stared, unable to respond to that at first. Virgil started to hunch his shoulders, glancing away, though Roman could see him starting to flush.

Then Roman’s expression twisted into incredulity. “Saving… _I’m_ the one who put your life in danger in the first place.”

“No,” Virgil insisted, shaking his head. “That was Deceit. Even if he hadn’t succeeded with you, he’d have just tried something different.” Virgil’s expression became rueful. “He obviously had it out for me. For all of us,” he amended.

“Just you and Patton, actually,” Roman supplied weakly. “He meant to let Logan live.”

Virgil gave Roman a flat stare. “Comforting.”

They both fell silent, neither quite knowing what to say. Part of Virgil guiltily wanted to call the other sides back, as heartfelt conversations were miles beyond his comfort zone. But even he had to admit, this was a conversation that had to happen, and it had to be _him_ — even if he didn’t have a clue what he was doing.

He took a moment to just watch Roman— confident, brave, proud Roman— but now he looked so fragile. Pale, bandaged, arms wrapped around his middle, starting to curl in on himself again… and self-loathing rolling off of him in waves.

Virgil took a breath, thinking. Then, with some effort, he started to push himself up from the recliner.

Roman didn’t realize what Virgil was doing until he was already up, balanced precariously on his one good leg. The princely side didn’t get the chance to protest before Virgil grabbed the arm of the couch, using it to support his weight and hobble over, before flopping into the cushions next to Roman.

If Virgil was being honest with himself, it was a bit closer than he was strictly comfortable with, but pressing himself into the end of the couch as far away from Roman as possible wasn’t going to send the right message.

From the way Roman was staring at him, he’d taken the creative side off guard again. Despite the awkwardness, Virgil forced himself to speak, trying not to trip over his words.

“You’re… you’re a good person, Roman. Deceit— he used that against you.” Virgil could _feel_ his face burning from embarrassment, and his eyes were firmly fixed on the coffee table, but he kept talking. “He wanted to use _you_ , but he knew you’d never deliberately hurt any of us.”

Roman lifted his head at that, looking into Virgil’s face, before his eyes dropped to the anxious side’s arm. “…But I _did_ hurt you, Virgil,” he whispered, clenching his eyes shut.

“The imagination…” Virgil shifted in place, taking a breath. “That wasn’t _you_. That was Deceit gaslighting you.”

“I should have _known,_ ” Roman breathed.

“Roman. You…” Virgil wished he was better at expressing himself, like Patton, or at least more verbose like Logan. “You protected me.” Roman frowned, forehead wrinkling, turning to look at Virgil— who pointed to Roman’s injured shoulder. “When Deceit was controlling you, you… You sacrificed yourself. For me.” Now Virgil pointed repeatedly, shaking his head slightly. He struggled to find the words, because the conversation had become entirely too earnest for him, but it was important that he got this out: “ _That’s_ the real Roman.”

Now, Virgil made himself meet Roman’s eyes and not look away. Roman was just staring, mouth hanging slightly open, tears leaving tracks on his cheeks. He was clearly at a loss for words, and Virgil had run out. The stunned look the creative side wore made Virgil think that he’d at least gotten through to him.

And yet… Roman still looked so small, so uncertain… Virgil understood that all too well, and wished he were better at comforting people.

But maybe… he could try?

This was way, _way_ outside of his bubble, but then, the last twenty four hours had pretty much shredded the bubble. _Is this honestly any worse than almost being killed?_ And so, very hesitantly, Virgil started to lift both of his arms, holding them awkwardly out to his sides.

Roman stared, trying to process. “…What?”

“Is it… is it okay to hug you?” Virgil mumbled, flushing once more.

Roman’s mouth hung open again, and he was suddenly blinking a lot more rapidly. After a moment, he nodded, unable to find his voice. Still uncertain, Virgil slowly wrapped his arms around Roman’s shoulders, and pulled the other side towards himself.

It took a second for Roman to respond, but then he lifted his own arms, tentatively putting them around Virgil’s back. Virgil took that as permission to tighten his grip a little, which apparently was okay since Roman did the same. Then Roman let his head dip to Virgil’s shoulder, which was soon soaked by the creative side’s tears.

 

* * *

 

Thomas perched on the edge of his couch, eyes unfocused, still trying to process everything Logan and Patton had told him.

What they had said… he was shaken deeply.

Patton asked gently, “Kiddo. Are you okay?”

Thomas glanced up. “I’m just… I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the thought that my deceitful side tried to _kill_ my anxiety and morality.” He looked to Logan. “Is that even possible?”

“We’re not sure,” Logan admitted.

“And we weren’t really too hot on the idea of finding out,” Patton added, grimacing.

Thomas raked his hands through his hair. “What would that have even done to me?” he wondered out loud, gesturing with both hands.

“Probably cause you to become a sociopath,” Logan answered, matter of fact.

“ _What?!_ ”

“ _Ooh_ , Logan—” The logical side looked from Thomas to Patton, who was wincing.

“…Not helping?” Logan hazarded. Patton scrunched his face and shook his head.

Their attention was recaptured by Thomas exhaling hard; he closed his eyes and cradled his head in one hand, looking not unlike Virgil did before they left the mindscape. Logan’s expression became one of chagrin. “…Thomas. I want to apologize, for causing you more distress in what is an already stressful situation.”

Thomas gave him a weak smile. “It’s all right, buddy. I know you didn’t mean to.”

A moment later, Patton abruptly asked, “Would you like to visit the mindscape?”

“I— what?” The question clearly caught Thomas unprepared.

“To see Virgil and Roman,” Patton elaborated. “I know you’re worried about them, and I think it’d do you a world of good.”

“Yes— _absolutely_.” Thomas started to push himself up.

Logan asked Patton in a murmur, “Do you think Roman’s up to that?”

“I think offering Roman all the support we can is a good thing,” Patton returned, equally quiet.

Thomas was already on his feet, looking at the two of them expectantly, and Logan bit down on any other reservations he might have. As he considered it though, something more occured to the logical side.

“Actually… perhaps it _would_ be best that you accompany us back to the mindscape.” Thomas and Patton both gave him questioning looks at his change of heart, and Logan went on. “I think we need your help with Deceit.”

Thomas’s expression faltered, though he tried to cover it up. “Right…” He took a breath to steel himself. Then Thomas glanced up at his two sides, who were watching him carefully.

He breathed out, then nodded.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

 


	9. The Taming of the Serpent

They rose up in the sides’ common area.

Thomas turned in a circle until his eyes landed on their couch, and— Virgil and Roman, who were curled up on it with their arms wrapped around each other. Roman was passed out against Virgil’s side, good arm tucked behind the anxious side’s back and head resting against his shoulder.

Virgil, however, was one hundred percent awake, and clearly as startled by their appearance as Thomas and the other two were to find them like this.

Virgil immediately began turning beet red. He tensed up, his eyes flicking back and forth between the other three who continued to stare; Patton was clearly trying very hard not to say anything, both hands clamped over his mouth.

Thomas’s face split into a wide smile, only for Virgil to growl, “If you say _one thing_ , I’m going to haunt you for a _month_.”

Thomas couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh at that, shaking his head, blinking at the stinging in his eyes. “I don’t even mind if you do— I’m just happy you two are _okay_.”

Virgil relented a little at that, his glare easing, though he still shot the other two sides warning looks. Patton was still covering his mouth in an attempt to not say anything and embarrass Virgil further, but from the way his eyes crinkled he was clearly smiling.

Logan was reluctant to break up this much needed moment of lightness, but knew he needed to get Thomas and Patton back on track. He tried to at least nudge gently, saying, “I don’t wish to be the one to say this, but— we can’t forget the other reason that Thomas is here. The sooner we deal with Deceit, the better.”

Virgil’s eyes snapped to Logan, questioning, but Logan made a small ‘wait’ gesture with his hand. He didn’t want to have this discussion here, where Roman might be woken up by them talking. Virgil frowned, but seemed to follow Logan’s line of thought, as he didn’t raise any protest.

Thomas straightened his back. He took a few more breaths before turning back to Logan and Patton. “What do I do?”

Patton only reluctantly dragged his gaze away from Virgil and Roman, clearly not wanting to leave them again. Still, he looked to Logan and nodded.

The logical side let out a breath, then gestured to the hall leading further into the mindscape. “This way.”

They walked in silence until they were out of earshot from the living room. Once Thomas was sure they were far enough away, he prompted them again. “So, how do I help with Deceit?”

The other two hesitated, before Logan explained, “It’s clear that Deceit cannot be trusted to be left unchecked anymore—” 

“Okay, not like I was going to trust someone whose name is literally ‘Deceit’,” Thomas mumbled. “But— how are we supposed to stop him from doing something like this again?”

Patton and Logan shared another look.

Thomas frowned. “What?” His eyes widened. “…Wait, you’re not suggesting we—”

“ _No_ ,” Patton quickly cut him off.

Logan also denied that possibility. “Like it or not, Deceit _is_ a part of you, and killing him— if it’s even possible— would certainly scar you as surely as destroying any one of us. But… we can lock him away.”

Thomas glanced between the two of them, eyes lingering on Patton. “Is that… the right thing to do?”

Patton pressed his lips into a thin line, then exhaled softly. “This definitely isn’t an easy one, kiddo. You’d essentially be repressing a part of yourself.”

“And, we don’t know for sure how that would affect you,” Logan admitted quietly.

“Deceit certainly won’t appreciate it,” Patton said.

“Not too broken up over that right now, to be honest,” Thomas remarked under his breath.

Patton continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted, “But, you’d also be protecting other parts of yourself by doing so.”

“…The parts that make up the core of who I am,” Thomas murmured to himself.

Patton’s mouth pulled to one side. “I wish I could make it black and white for you, but… all I can do is give you the tools.” He held Thomas’s gaze. “Ultimately, the decision about whether or not you think this is right has to be yours.”

Thomas reflected on it for a moment, before deciding. “I think, we still need to do it.”

Logan suddenly halted in the middle of the hallway, causing Thomas to pull up short behind him. “…Thomas. There’s one last thing you need to know.” Logan turned to face him, expression serious. “This will not be permanent. Now, even locked away,” Logan went on, “Deceit’s influence won’t be completely gone; no one can live a life completely devoid of deception. But, eventually, Deceit _is_ going to be able to let himself out again.”

“…What happens then?” Thomas asked softly.

Logan had no answer for him. So instead, Patton supplied, “I guess… we’ll find out when it happens.”

Unsurprisingly, Thomas didn’t look very reassured. “Do we even know how long this will last?”

“No,” Logan admitted. “ _But_ — it _will_ last longer with your help.”

The way Thomas’s expression twisted, it was plain he had misgivings. Even so, he didn’t voice them, finally just offering a flat, “…Okay.”

They traveled the last stretch in silence, until they finally reached Deceit’s door— Thomas was again brought up short, but this time by his own instinctive reaction.

Deceit was actively trying to escape his room, clawing and yanking at the door. He couldn’t get it open more than a few inches though, as it was currently held in place by two small slide-bolt chains on the outside.

It only took a moment for him to notice the three of them; he hissed, turning his head to regard them with his yellow eye. Every hair on the back of Thomas’s neck stood up.

“ _Thomas_ … what a pleasant surprise. So kind of you to visit.”

His words were mild, but even Deceit couldn’t conceal the undercurrent of venom in his voice right then, and Thomas had to suppress a shiver.

Deceit’s gaze flicked to the others. “ _Logic_. _Morality_ … I want you to know— _no hard feelings_.”

“Speak for yourself,” Logan returned coldly.

Deceit turned his unblinking stare on Thomas again. “And who’s speaking for _Thomas?_ I certainly don’t think it’s _Logic_ right now.” Logan stiffened. “Anxiety, maybe? …How _is—_ ”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Patton cut in, voice tight. Deceit smiled, still holding eye contact with Thomas, who couldn’t seem to look away.

“They’re afraid, Thomas. And they want you to be too. But _you_ have nothing to fear from me.” Deceit traced his fingers up the edge of the door, halted by the chains. “I know you don’t like this. I know when you _lie_ to yourself.” His fingers curled around the edge of the door. “You can undo what they’ve done,” he urged. “You can make it _right_.”

“Thomas,” Logan started, voice low. Thomas gestured at him, and the logical side fell silent, though his worry did not.

Thomas took a breath to center himself before addressing Deceit.

“…I know… your sole motivation is self-preservation. That, you do what you do to protect me, the only way you know how. But…” Thomas shook his head. “I can’t live the life that you want for me. I don’t _want_ to. And—” Here, Thomas’s voice and expression hardened. “I _can’t_ live without my Morality, _or_ my Anxiety. You would ‘protect’ me at the cost of _destroying_ half of who I am.”

“Who you are? You don’t even _know_ who you are.”

The hissed assertion halted Thomas, and Deceit’s eyes narrowed.

“ _I’m_ the one who protects you and your precious four favorites from all the facets of yourself you don’t _want_ to know— and with me locked away, there is _nothing_ stopping them from surfacing. You think _I’m_ a ‘dark side’?” Deceit didn’t bother trying to sound cool and collected anymore; this was his last ditch attempt to stay free. “There are buried pieces of yourself you don’t want to see. Things that will _break_ you,” he spat. “Once you uncover them, there’s no going back.”

Thomas looked as though he was starting falter under Deceit’s words; he took a shaky breath. Logan opened his mouth to angrily refute the things Deceit had said, but Patton caught his arm and squeezed it silently. Logan turned a mystified look towards his fellow side, who shook his head slightly.

Then Thomas cast a glance back at the two of them. He could see that Logan was antsy, wanting to jump in. Patton simply said: “It’s your decision.” Thomas locked eyes with his morality. “And we’ll back you, either way.”

Thomas knew that Patton was entirely earnest. Logan looked like he wanted to protest, but held it back. They were leaving the choice to him. Even if it put them back in danger… and Thomas’s decision solidified.

He thought of Roman and Virgil; it wasn’t just _him_ at stake, it was all of them. And Deceit had already hurt them.

Thomas turned back to Deceit.

“They’re my friends,” he whispered. Then, stronger, he said, “You _hurt my friends_.”

Deceit hissed again. “Aren’t we all friends here, _Thomas?_ ” But his eyes were angry and hate-filled, and he started clawing and tugging at the door again.

Thomas shook his head but didn’t look away. “ _No_. I can’t deny that you’re a part of me. I won’t be able to avoid every lie or deception in my life, I know that. But, I _can_ try to live as honestly and truthfully as I can.” Thomas straightened up to his full height. “Especially now— now that I know the stakes? I’m going to do whatever I can to keep you from having any more power over my life than I absolutely have to. And,” he went on, uncharacteristically intense, “I am _never_ going to let you have a seat at the table.”

Deceit opened his mouth, baring pointed fangs, a loud and furious hiss tearing loose from his throat.

But despite his protesting and fighting, the door slammed shut of its own volition— and many, _many_ more chains appeared across it, each much thicker and stronger than the two small slide bolts.

The three of them stared wordlessly. The only sound in the silence that came after the echo faded was a faint scrabbling at the other side of the door. Even as they listened, it slowed, then eventually stopped, leaving only the quiet.

It took Thomas several seconds to remember to breathe. He was surprised to feel Patton and Logan’s hands on either of his shoulders, but then slowly turned to face them.

Patton watched his face carefully. “You okay, Thomas?” Thomas didn’t answer right away.

“Thomas, the things Deceit said,” Logan started, then trailed off. “…He is, after all, _Deceit_. We don’t know how much, if _any_ , of what he claimed is true.”

“I don’t know, guys,” Thomas murmured. “I get the feeling that for once, Deceit was being totally honest.”

Logan’s confidence waned, and he looked to Patton. The moral side was glancing down and conspicuously silent.

Thomas also remained silent for a beat, before quietly allowing, “I already know there are other parts of me… other ‘sides’… that Deceit kept hidden. But they’ve still always been a part of who I am; just because I don’t know them yet doesn’t mean they aren’t there. I think… the most important thing to remember, is—” He looked up. “They’re only _small_ parts of me. Not like you guys.” Now Thomas spoke with quiet confidence. “You two, and Roman and Virgil— _you’re_ the core of who I am. And together, we can handle… _what_ ever other sides of me decide to pop up.”

Both Patton and Logan regarded him, expressions slowly turning into smiles of pride. “Spoken like someone possessing great maturity and wisdom,” Logan complimented.

“Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later,” Thomas joked, cracking just the hint of a smile.

Logan raised one eyebrow. “So I should expect more of the same in the future?”

“Definitely not,” Thomas confirmed. Logan smiled wryly, but there was a warmth to it that they had all been missing.

Thomas was taken abruptly off guard by a weight hitting him in the side, and it took a moment for him to realize that it was Patton, wrapping himself around Thomas’s torso in a hug.

“Oh— that’s— still weird,” Thomas remarked, still not used to the strangeness of actually being able to physically interact with his sides without their ‘central pillar’. He didn’t push away, though, and after a moment even returned Patton’s hug.

After a few seconds, Patton released Thomas, pulling back with only his hands resting on Thomas’s shoulders. “Kiddo— _are_ you okay?” he asked again, gently.

Thomas considered the question, taking a moment to just breathe and think, before slowly starting to nod. “Yeah, actually… I am. All things considered.” And the corners of his lips turned up in a small, tired, but still genuine smile.

Patton didn’t bother to try to hide the relief on his face. Even Logan looked as though a heavy weight had been lifted from him.

Thomas’s expression faltered, however, and Patton’s heart skipped a beat. “Now that Deceit’s been taken care of, though,” he started. “…Can we go back and check on Roman and Virgil?”

The plaintive question elicited a sound that was somewhere between relief and a laugh from Patton, who quickly assured Thomas, “Of course!” He took Thomas’s hand, insisting, “Here, this will be faster—”

Then he glanced back at Logan, who nodded, before all three sunk out together.

 

* * *

 

Someone nudging his uninjured shoulder roused Roman, though he was still reluctant to wake. This time, however, had less to do with shame and guilt and more to do with the fact that he was wrapped in someone else’s comforting embrace.

“Roman… Roman, wake up.” The creative side groaned softly in protest, trying to place the low voice. “C’mon, Princey, my arm’s asleep.”

It took a second, but as soon as the nickname registered, Roman’s eyes shot open. “ _Virgil—_ ” Roman flushed, hastily trying to disentangle himself from the anxious side without hurting either of them further. “I’m sorry,” he got out, heartily embarrassed. “ _Really_ sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Virgil returned, sounding embarrassed himself, extracting his left arm from behind Roman. “Besides. There’s someone here to see you.”

That was when Roman turned to see that Patton and Logan had returned— and they weren’t alone.

“ _Thomas_ ,” he breathed.

Thomas wore a sheepish half-smile, and rubbed at the back of his head. “Hey, Roman,” he offered quietly.

Roman was speechless at first. After a moment, Thomas carefully stepped in between the couch and coffee table, sitting himself on the edge of said table, his knees touching Roman’s. The others hung back quietly, letting Thomas do the talking.

He looked into Roman’s face, now on eye level with him. “How’re you doing, buddy?”

“Thomas… I… I don’t even…” Roman’s voice trembled, the enormity of what happened, of trying to admit all of it to Thomas, threatening to overwhelm him again.

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay,” Thomas was quick to assure Roman, leaning forward to place his hands on Roman’s knees. “Shh, hey… I already know what happened, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

“Then you know…” _How badly I messed up_. Roman let out a breath, closing his eyes. “Thomas, I’m _sorry_.”

“I know,” Thomas assured him, moving a hand to Roman’s shoulder. “I forgive you,” he said simply— more because Roman needed to hear it than because Thomas thought he was to blame— and Roman sucked in another breath that was more of a gasp this time. “And it’s okay to forgive yourself,” Thomas added softly.

Roman gulped for air again; after a moment, Thomas tugged on his shoulder.

“C’mere. C’mon, bring it in,” he coaxed, reaching his other arm out to pull Roman into a hug. Roman allowed himself to be wrapped in Thomas’s arms, burying his face into Thomas’s chest as the young man moved one hand to the back of his head.

Thomas glanced up to see Virgil watching them— a little awkwardly, since he was still sitting right next to Roman. After a second though, Virgil gave a very small smile; Thomas returned it, before extending his left arm out to him, offering to include Virgil in the hug. Virgil’s look became a flat stare, and Thomas couldn’t help but chuckle.

But then Virgil surprised Thomas, by tentatively taking his hand and gripping it. Thomas blinked, then smiled again as he squeezed it back— only to be surprised again by Patton’s arms wrapping around both him and Roman from his left side. Then Logan seated himself on the couch on Roman’s other side, carefully putting an arm around Roman’s back, hand resting on his opposite shoulder.

Still held in Thomas’s arms, surrounded on all sides by his family, Roman let out another shuddering breath. Thomas ducked his own head, so that his temple was resting against Roman’s. “Hey, Roman,” he whispered. “You’re _still_ my hero.”

Thomas could feel wet spots soaking through his tee shirt to his chest, and Roman’s grip on his torso tightened. But when Thomas twisted his head, he could also just see Roman’s mouth pulled into a pained but real smile, before he whispered back:

“And all of you are mine.”

 


End file.
